


A silence that is far from empty

by beespiesandplaid



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:07:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 48,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beespiesandplaid/pseuds/beespiesandplaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's flatmate is shy. Painfully so. A post it note asking a favor opens the door to communication. It turns out Merlin has more to say when it's written in ink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Groceries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Owlwithafringe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlwithafringe/gifts).



> This work is gifted to Owlwithafringe. I hope that it cheers you up, some what. 
> 
> I shall try to update this with decent frequency. So if you want to see more awkwardness between these two idiots, maybe subscribe and stick with it for awhile. And let me know what you think, if you like. :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy it. :)

When Arthur Pendragon's flatmate to be had said in the email he was pretty quiet, Arthur hadn't taken him literally enough. The guy never spoke. They had exchanged maybe ten words since he had moved in – all of them unavoidable and necessary, such as which room he was to sleep in and where the light switch in the lounge was. And how to work the dodgy handle for the backdoor. He wasn't sure if Merlin was rude, painfully shy or painfully awkward. Or maybe a combination of the three. On the first morning he was there, he had tried to make conversation over breakfast. No response. He had put it down to Merlin not being a morning person. Turns out he wasn't an afternoon or evening person either.

 

Once, Arthur had complimented his jacket and Merlin had blushed from the tip of his nose to the edges of his rather sticky out ears. Then he had offered up a smile that was almost a grimace and stumbled out of the room. Pretty soon after, Arthur had got used to the quiet. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, just a little awkward. People pestered him all day anyway – his face didn't exactly go unnoticed, given his family name. This little flat was an escape from the pressures of being watched constantly.

 

It was Monday morning. Arthur hated Monday's. They were close to Friday, just the wrong side of it, and the week always seemed to stretch ahead like a dessert. Next Friday seemed almost like a mirage. He opened the fridge. On one shelf was Merlin's food – random health foods, leftovers and an inhuman amount of cheese. On another was his – an old yoghurt, half an onion and an egg. He really needed to go shopping. But he had that meeting tonight, and he wouldn't be back until nearly eleven and he was about to eat the last potnoodle for breakfast.

 

He could order takeaway. Or do an online shop. But his laptop was in for repair and he didn't like making phonecalls late at night. Merlin would be back at lunchtime. He went shopping on Mondays. Arthur grabbed a postit from the table and scrawled a note.

 

_Merlin, if you are getting groceries, could you pick some things up for me?_

  * _Pot Noodles_

  * _Milk_

  * _Pizza_

  * _Cheese Puffs_

  * _Apples_




_Thanks, Arthur_

 

He left the note by Merlin's book ( some old, historical tome) with a twenty pound note. He wondered if it was weird to ask someone to buy your groceries if you didn't even say good morning to them. Well, there was a first time for everything. He picked the pen back up.

 

P.S Good Morning

 

There. That couldn't be much more polite.

 

Later that night, Arthur arrived home, feet aching and head pounding from listening to people drone on and on about profits and business forecasts and things he quite simply did not give a shit about. Merlin was sat in the small armchair he always sat it ( presumably to ensure he never had to sit beside anyone else) reading his book. He didn't look up when Arthur arrived.

Arthur opened the fridge. His shelf was replenished. The cupboard had a weeks worth of potnoodles. There was a note on the door. Arthur pulled it off to read it – it was written in a neat, small script that he had to squint to decipher.

 

_Arthur, Here are your groceries. I do not understand how you maintain your rather large amount of muscle mass on this diet. It is not healthy. The change is on the side. From Merlin._

 

_P.S Good Evening._

 

Arthur laughed in surprise. On this small piece of paper were more words than he had ever heard come out of Merlin's mouth. And most of them appeared to be saying he was ripped. He grinned and flipped the paper over, scribbling a few words back.

 

Hey – I eat Apples. And work out. You can't judge – you are 90% cheese.

 

P.S Goodnight

 

He makes himself a chicken potnoodle and sits on the couch, flicking the TV on. He turns the volume down low. Neither of them speak. A little while later, Merlin goes through to the kitchen to make tea. He is 90% cheese and 10% tea. Arthur sneaks a glance and sees him reading the note. A small smile spreads across his face. He looks like a different person.

 

When he returns, he wordlessly places a cup of tea on the table beside Arthur.

 


	2. A suitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur realizes his flirting skills are rusty. Merlin wants to get serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think - I do love criticism :)

Arthur didn't want to seem too eager, so he didn't read Merlin's next note until Merlin was asleep. That, actually, was probably creepier. But this new development in their relationship was intriguing. What did that say about his life? The highlight of his day is a note from his weird, cheese eating flatmate? His life was supposed to be glamorous.  
There was a crunch beneath his foot. The remains of a cheese puff got stuck between his toes. Glamorous indeed. He opened the fridge to let out enough light to read the note. At some point, this had become a stealth mission. 

Cheese has lots of calcium for strong bones. I may be 90% cheese but I am 100% cooler than you.   
Goodnight to you too

Arthur was outraged. Merlin, cooler than him, Arthur Pendragon? He looked down at his cheese covered foot and scabby sweatpants. Actually, Merlin may have a point. There was nothing cool about sneaking around your own flat to eagerly read an insult from your roommate. He reached for a pen and paper, but then realized that would be his stealth mission over. Until tomorrow, he thought, and went back to bed.   
On Tuesdays, Merlin vanished before Arthur woke up. Come to think of it, he didn't know where he went. He didn't even know where or if Merlin worked. He could be a criminal or a spy or anything for all Arthur knew. He could be living with a wanted man. Maybe that was why he was so silent, to keep all the secrets in. Maybe he was foreign – Merlin was a pretty weird name – and he only spoke a few words of English. Maybe, maybe, maybe Arthur should just eat his damn breakfast and get a hobby or something instead of constructing fictional lives for real people.   
Still, he did have an air of mystery to him, as though he really were keeping some strange secret.   
He looked at the note on the table. Now that he didn't have an excuse to write anything, another note would clearly indicate his interest in developing some kind of friendship with Merlin. Though he had seemed happy enough to engage with Arthur's silliness yesterday – in fact, he had started it, really. Arthur picked up his pen and chewed it thoughtfully. 

Cheese puffs have calcium too. Probably. And they are an infinitely cooler snack. What do you do all day because I realised you might be a spy. 

Not cool, Arthur. Accusing someone of being a spy? Smooth. When did this start to feel like flirting? And why was he so bad at it? Come to think of it, when was the last time he went on a date? He banged his head on the table in despair of his life. He was going to the gym later, he decided. Maybe he was uncool, but at least he'd look good.   
His phone beeped. An urgent meeting had come up. He scrambled into his least creased shirt and left the house, too distracted to realize he had not composed a better note. Halfway to work he realized Merlin would come home to Arthur's utter lack of charm. Normally, he was better at this. It seemed that Merlin was more articulate on paper, and it was Arthur that couldn't string a sentence together. 

…

When he arrived home, Merlin was nowhere to be seen. There was a new note on the table. 

If cheese puffs are a good source of calcium, does that make chips one of your five a day? Also, can we stop dragging out this food conversation? Let's get serious...

Arthur's heart unexpectedly skipped a beat. 

Which Hogwarts house are you? ( Btw I'm not a spy. And if I was, I certainly wouldn't confess to it in writing.)

Arthur laughed despite himself, partly at the note, partly at himself for jumping to ridiculous conclusions. 

Gryffindoor. Hope you're not a Slytherin. May cause problems. ;)

He turned to leave the kitchen, but another scrap of paper caught his eye. It was written in spiky handwriting – it looked like it was written by a man, but maybe that was just him being stereotypical. It simply had a number and “Call Me” scrawled on it, with a winky face much like the one Arthur had just signed his note off with. 

The paper was crinkled, as if it had been either shoved in a pocket or handled too much. 

Arthur felt unexpectedly disappointed. He added another line to his note: 

I see you have a suitor. Remember to leave a tie on the door.


	3. House Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is the greatest wizard of all time. Arthur is inclined to believe that, despite what he say's about Dumbledore. It sure feels like Merlin is casting a spell on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well so far so good, on updating. I must say, I am enjoying writing this story. Thank you to everyone who has commented - you are all lovely. Hopefully you keep enjoying this.

_A suitor? Oh,the number. That would be Gwaine. He thinks that because I don't out rightly SAY no it means I'm interested. I am, in fact, a Slytherin. I must say,I am disappointed that you heed silly stereotypes._

 

Arthur grinned. Perhaps Gwaine's feelings weren't mutual. Or maybe Merlin wasn't the kind of guy to discuss his romantic life on a post it note. There was that. They weren't five. Still, it wasn't like they'd signed marriage papers or anything. Probably.

He was not infatuated with his flatmate. His flatmate who apparently couldn't look him in the eye. And who he didn't know anything about. And who had soft, soft hair and snow white skin and slim calves and... damn it. He always did this – there was Gwen, and that foreign girl his father set him up with, and his father's business partner's son ( That had ended in Arthur's humiliation.) But people were just so... beautiful.

No, Arthur told himself. He needed to get over this. The guy was a Slytherin and he was not about to embark on some star-crossed lover type adventure. Hell, he probably liked cats as well. Still, he picked up the pen and sat down to reply. Merlin really did have nice handwriting – careful and considered, like he cared what he was saying.

 

_Silly stereotypes? Did you forget the part where a member of your house was a genocidal maniac? Or is that not important?_

 

_And are you interested?_

 

He crossed out the last line. Too personal, he decided.

 

_So, what is it that you do? I kind of don't actually know anything about you except that you eat an ungodly amount of cheese and read obscure books._

 

That wasn't too intrusive, surely? It was difficult to work out where the lines were without body language and tone of voice. The only indication he had of Merlin's interest in continuing this conversation was the fact that, despite Arthur being kind of an idiot, he still kept replying.

Later that night, another note appeared, this time stuck to Arthur's laptop. That was interesting. And useful. It was beginning to get awkward, all this traipsing into the kitchen and back.

 

_I'm sure Gryffindoor has churned out plenty of assholes. Also, you forget that the greatest wizard of all time was a Slytherin._

 

_I work in publishing, by the way – I would have though all the manuscripts lying around would give it away? - M_

 

Well that explained the copious amounts of paper and highlighters Merlin left lying around. And his attachment to his laptop.

 

The greatest wizard of all time? And who might that be, pray tell, if Dumbledore himself was a Gryffindoor?

 

What do you, er, publish?

 

Arthur stuck the note on Merlin's chair and flicked the TV on. Game of Thrones returned next week, he saw. Did Merlin watch Game of Thrones? He obviously liked books. Maybe he was one of those snobby readers who thought that the TV series was cheating. Or tainted. Or something. Arthur like the show – sex, dragons and fighting, what more could you want? Maybe a plotline that didn't make your head spin but it kept his brain active.

The door opened and he heard Merlin drop his keys on to the side. A few seconds later, the smell of pungent cheese hit his nose. Arthur made a note to, well, make a note. To kindly ask Merlin to put his cheese in a tuppaware or something because it made him dizzy.

Merlin sat down. The note rustled. He stood back up and read it. A smirk crossed his face, so brief Arthur almost didn't see it. He wondered why Merlin was so quiet. A few moments later, something hit him in the face. A paper aeroplane. He glanced across at Merlin. His face was blank and he was studiously reading.

He unfolded the note.

 

_Me._

 

_Books. - M_

 

Sarcastic bastard, Arthur thought. There was a pencil on the coffee table. He scratched a reply.

 

_You? Are you kidding me? Dumbledore is clearly the wisest of them all. Why do you think his beard is so long? It's full of secrets._

 

_No kidding. I know I don't have that same air of intellect as you but I did manage that leap. What kind of books? Please don't say textbooks. That would be disappointing._

 

He felt slightly awkward throwing the plane back, but Merlin had started it. He was careful to aim for his arm rather than his face. His throwing was not what he hoped though. The plane came to rest with the nose in Merlin's crotch. Merlin shot him something close to a glare and Arthur felt his face flush red. Any normal person would just apologise, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to shatter the silence. 

The plane glided to a halt on the table beside him. It almost radiated smugness.

 

_Maybe you should grow a beard to try and trap some wisdom._

 

_I have an air of intellect? That's almost a compliment. Not textbooks. Fiction – people send me their manuscripts and I decide if they are good enough to publish. And tell them how to improve them. - M_

 

The paper plane was running out of space. Arthur squished his reply into a corner.

 

_Now you are just being mean. My ego is a fragile thing._

 

Merlin caught the plane this time. He paused before writing. Arthur tried to look casual, but he was enjoying this back and forth rather a lot. Merlin was funnier than he had expected.

 

_If that is a hint for me to stroke it, you are out of luck. Sorry. Goodnight, Arthur. -M_

 

Arthur smiled. It seemed Merlin saw right through him.

 

_Fine – I still don't think you are the best wizard though._

 

_We shall see. - M_

 


	4. Text Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note by note, Arthur learns who Merlin is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not going to update tonight but I wrote and it actually made me feel a lot better. These characters are so much fun to write. As always, feedback is welcome and I hope you all like this. :)

In the following week, Arthur learns a lot of things about Merlin. He likes warm socks, Game of Thrones and hot chocolate. He hates his boss. He enjoys walking and is a complete history nerd. Once, he rescued a baby bird from his cat. He named it Derek. He hates poetry that rhymes and a hundred other random pieces of information. He doesn't take shit from anyone, least of all Arthur, and he teases him mercilessly without being malicious. He has got the balance between sarcastic and asshole down to a t.

 

Slowly but surely, he builds up a picture of who Merlin really is – the vibrant person that is hidden inside such a quiet, unassuming shell.

 

_How do you take your coffee?_

 

_Tea – M_

 

_You never drink coffee? I saw you drink coffee the other week._

 

_Yes. After my idiot flatmate convinced me that watching game of thrones until 5 am would “ Get me in the mood for the premiere.” - M_

 

Arthur loved how he signed his notes.

 

_Well it worked, didn't it?_

 

_YES. TOO WELL. Someone got in my way and I nearly beat them with my umbrella. I forgot that I wasn't living in a senselessly violent society with dragons. - M_

 

_I fail to see a problem with that. Also, you have an umbrella? Cute._

 

_I'm positively adorable. Now shut up I'm trying to watch this fascinating advert. - M_

 

_Tampax Pearl? Something you want to tell me, Merlin?_

 

_It's more interesting than you. Clotpole. - M_

 

_That backfired. Admit it._

 

_I can't be the epitome of wit all the time. - M_

 

_If you are the epitome of wit, humour is dead._

 

_Compared to some people in this room, I'm stand up comedy material. - M_

 

Arthur frowns. That would require Merlin talking. On stage. Over the course of a hundred or so notes, there was one topic that they had not spoken about. At all. And that was Merlin's silence. Arthur didn't know how to tackle the topic without either putting his foot in his mouth or digging a hole he couldn't climb out of. He knew Merlin could speak – he had after all managed a few words the first day they met, but he hadn't seemed happy about it.

His silence was not something that bothered Arthur. He was just curious. But he'd rather continue getting to know this strange enigma quietly than go back to the empty silence of before. Another piece of paper landed in front of him.

 

_? - M_

 

Arthur realised he had not replied for several minutes. Merlin was biting his lip, though he wasn't looking at Arthur. The look of worry on his face tore at something in Arthur. He would never truly know what Merlin was thinking. He could consider every answer. He'd never just blurt out an insult or shout in anger. And that was fine, but if Arthur ever hurt him … he'd only know if it was quite literally written down for him. Merlin was an expert at hiding everything he was feeling when he wanted to. It seemed that that was most of the time.

 

_Sorry. I was just thinking. There is a film out next week in the cinema. Do you want to go?_

 

Merlin frowned at the note. Arthur's heart nearly beat his ribs bloody with nerves. It was an impulsive thing to ask. They'd never been anywhere together. They didn't even eat meals together.

 

_I've not been to the cinema in years. - M_

 

_Oh. OK. Well if you don't want to it's fine. I can go with someone else. I have friends._

 

That wasn't strictly true. He had colleagues and acquaintances. People who respected him. But he didn't have many people he would call friends. He was chatty enough with Gwen, but since they broke things off and she got engaged their paths hadn't crossed so much. He had work, he thought, and he had Merlin.

 

_No. I'd like to. My friends aren't really into cinema. And I can't go by myself, because. I can't ask for the ticket. - M_

 

The words are written small, almost unsure. Arthur doesn't look at Merlin. He can barely hear him breathe. He had never considered what a luxury his voice was. He didn't know how he would cope if everything was trapped inside him like that.

 

_I'll do the talking. I do love the sound of my own voice. ;)_

 

_Thank you. - M_

 

What, exactly, was he being thanked for? Part of him wanted to push the conversation further. Partly to understand. Partly to satisfy that terrible human trait of nosiness. But more than that he wanted to respect Merlin's privacy. When and if he was ever ready to talk, or, well, write, Arthur would listen/read. He could wait.

 

When he answered the call of the coffee pot the next morning he found a post it note stuck to the cupboard. A phone number was scrawled on the paper.

 

_Text Me – M_

 


	5. soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur cooks soup. An old lady mistakes them for a couple. Arthur wishes it wasn't a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about twice as long as the others. I was going to split it but it didn't split evenly and it all takes place on the same day so here you go. Enjoy.

_Merlin – I cooked soup. Do you want some?_

 

The transition from paper to text had sped up conversation. There were still notes littering the flat though – an angry note from Merlin asking Arthur to stop leaving the milk on the side, a note from Arthur asking Merlin to record Game of Thrones because he couldn't work the remote. The texts just made things more casual.

 

_You cooked soup? Cooked? Is that even a thing you can do? - M_

 

Probably Arthur should take offence at that. He wasn't completely incompetent. He made excellent pot noodles and sometimes even managed cheese on toast. Admittedly, this had been a new step in his culinary career but it tasted OK.

 

_I learnt from pinterest._

 

He glanced at Merlin. Merlin had gone red. He abruptly left the room. Arthur heard him laughing in his bedroom. It was possibly the best sound he had ever heard – Merlin sounded genuinely amused and happy. Something inside him broke. He wanted that with Merlin, he realised, wanted to make him laugh everyday and wanted to be able to see the amusement in his eyes.

 

_Are you laughing at me?_

 

_Of course I am laughing at you. -M_

 

_Why._

 

_Because you use pinterest. That is a form of social media reserved almost exclusively for housewives and people who think they are arty and profound. -M_

 

_Are you saying I'm not profound._

 

_You wouldn't know something was profound if it was labelled “profound.” Now, profanities – you are well versed in them. You woke me up swearing this morning. - M_

 

_I stubbed my toe. You should get pinterest. We could be pin twins._

 

There is a wheezing sound from the other room. Arthur smirks and stirs his soup. This, this is a game he could get into.

 

_Never. What kind of soup is it? - M_

 

_I'm hurt. Vegetable._

 

_Good. No chance of salmonella. - M_

 

_I'm going to spit in yours, fyi._

 

_Oh no not text talk. - M_

 

_do u wnt bred with urs m8_

_OK I'm moving out – M_

 

_No please I'll have to buy my own milk._

 

_That is the price you pay for butchering the English language. Yes, I do want bread. - M_

 

_It's on the table._

 

_Thanks. - M_

 

Arthur puts two bowls of soup on the table. Merlin emerges from his room, still slightly red in the face. He gives Arthur a slightly awkward thumbs up when he tries the soup. Arthur is not sure he as ever felt this proud of himself before.

 

_Is sign language going to be our next method of communication? Because I am all thumbs._

 

_Just trying it out. This is good by the way. - M_

 

_I am going on master chef._

 

_NO. - M_

 

Arthur smiles as he washes up. He feels good about life. He likes Saturdays – he doesn't have to sit in stuffy meetings or even get dressed if he doesn't want to. The knowledge of not having to do anything allowed him to actually enjoy doing things – like following a stupid pinterest recipe and cleaning the sink and reading a crap paperback that Merlin left on the arm of the couch. That had been a pleasing discovery – despite his extensive knowledge of literature, Merlin still read cheap crime novels and young adult dystopia's and basically anything fictional.

 

_Are you ready? The film starts in 45._

 

_45 what? - M_

 

_Minutes. You infuriate me._

 

_You love it. - M_

 

Yes, Arthur though, butterflies in his stomach. He kind of did. He found his socks from behind the sofa. He should really get around to doing some laundry at some point. Cooking soup was the extent of his domestic abilities. An incredibly sheltered, pampered childhood had spat him out into the world as what was essentially a very large baby. Merlin walked into the living room. The butterflies returned. He was wearing a button down shirt, his forearms showing, and jeans that were only mildly creased. Arthur looked down at his own crusty sock and felt about as attractive as a potato.

 

_I didn't realise we were dressing up._

 

_We aren't?_

 

_We will look like a couple. And, worse, you'll be the hot one. I've been wearing these jeans for a week._

 

A faint blush spread across Merlin's cheeks.

 

_I'll take that as a compliment. - M_

 

They left the apartment. It felt weird to leave together. They hadn't actually done anything together except marathon tv shows and eat soup. Arthur liked it though. Walking through the quiet streets with Merlin was peaceful. They reached the bus stop. An old lady cooed about how cute they looked.

 

_I told you._

 

_You did. She smells of Parma Violets. - M_

 

_I hate Parma violets._

 

_You know what I hate? Skittles. And queueing. - M_

 

_Does it bother you?_

 

_Does what bother me? - M_

 

_If people assume that we are, you know..._

 

_Together? Not especially. - M_

 

_Oh. How can you hate skittles they are rainbows in a packet._

 

_Arthur are you trying to tell me something? - M_

 

Arthur frowned. What? Then he read the last few messages. Oh. Realization dawned. Merlin thought he was awkwardly coming out over text.

 

_I'm not that gay._

 

_Um. Approximately how gay are you? - M_

 

_I'd say about 50 percent or so._

 

Merlin snorted. The bus arrived. Arthur was glad. The old lady was peering into her handbag and muttering. It was making him nervous. Also, he was slightly sweating over what Merlin's next message was going to say.

 

_Cool beans. I'd say I'm a solid 95 % - M_

 

_What's the other 5?_

 

_Cheese. - M_

 

And that was that. Possibly the easiest coming out he had ever had. They sat side by side on the bus, Merlin beside the window, Arthur a human shield between him and other possible interactions. The bus smelt faintly of pee, but this was also the closest he had ever been to Merlin. He could smell his aftershave and laundry powder and a faint spicy smell that was just him. A smile crept across Arthur's lips, and for a moment he let himself pretend that the old woman had assumed correctly. That this was their first date, and that later they'd go for a walk, perhaps, and Merlin would slip his hand into Arthur's and they'd look at the stars or something.

 

_What are you thinking about? You're eyes have gone kind of glazed. And you are dribbling. - M_

 

Arthur sat up and wiped his mouth, face burning. Maybe Merlin could read minds, he thought wildly. He didn't speak because he knew every answer already. No. Arthur really did just look like an idiot. When had he become so hopeless? Unless it was just Merlin. Glancing at his long, slim fingers and full lips and almost smirk, that theory seemed like the most logical one.

 

_Cheesecake. It's my favourite dessert._

 

_I feel slightly uncomfortable sitting by you whilst you fantasize about cheesecake. That is not something you should do in public. - M_

 

Merlin didn't know the half of it. It was a stupid fantasy anyway. You couldn't see the stars from the city. There was too much light pollution. They'd have to gaze up at a street lamp instead. Unless they went out into the country, and Merlin got cold, so Arthur reached out and... stop.

 

_It's our stop. Please compose yourself. - M_

 

Arthur came to his senses and stood up. He was a little premature though. The bus turned a corner and he was flung backwards into Merlin. A surprisingly strong arm wrapped around him. Arthur's breath caught in his throat. Merlin was pressed against him, warm and solid. The arm dropped. Arthur didn't need to look at Merlin to know his eyes would be cast low, avoiding his gaze.

They walked the rest of the way to the cinema in a silence that was a little closer to uncomfortable than usual. Arthur wondered if Merlin felt merely uncomfortable or if he had felt any of what Arthur had felt. Because he hadn't wanted that arm to let go of him.

 

_Sorry._

 

_It's fine. Now I can add “ Clumsy oaf” to your list of negative traits. - M_

 

_List? Plural? I am an angel._

 

_You leave your socks in the sink. - M_

 

_All the best people do._

 

_Do you even realize what a cabbage head you are?_

 

_Do you even realize how crap your comebacks are?_

 

_Touche._

 

They headed into the cinema, balance restored once more. The girl who gave them their tickets wrote her number on the back of Arthur's ticket and batted her eyelashes in what she must of thought was an endearing way. Merlin glared at her slightly. Arthur's heart nearly combusted.

 

“ Do you have something in your eye?” he asked. The girl looked at him, more annoyed than embarrassed. She snatched drew a line through the number.

_That was mean. - M_

 

_She wasn't my type._

Afterwards, Arthur didn't remember a thing about the film. He'd been too distracted watching shadows play across Merlin's jaw and imagining taking his hand in his and pulling Merlin towards him until they fit together like puzzle pieces. Merlin didn't notice any of this because it was actually quite a good film.

 

 

 

 


	6. Merlin's voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's laugh is one of Arthur's favorite sounds. He just wishes Merlin could laugh in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you to everyone who has left such lovely comments. They make my day. Second of all - I'm sorry this chapter has mild angst and pain. But it had to be done. I'll compensate next chapter. Probably. :)

Arthur had barely sat down in his office when the phone rang. His body felt heavy. He answered it. Someone with a foreign accent and a lot of money spoke at him for several minutes. He agreed to schedule a meeting for them with his father. Then he checked his emails. There were a lot. Percival knocked to inform him of a dispute between staff members. Arthur put his head in his hands and sighed. He hated this job. He had spent three years studying business because he had been told to, and now here he was, signing contracts and managing idiots and dealing with all the stuff that wasn't important enough for his father to do. His phone vibrated and he sighed again. Only the really important people had his cell number.

 

_My client is arguing with me about the correct use of a comma. They think it adds character if it's misused. It does not. I don't know how this person wrote an entire novel. They misspelled their own name in this email. Help – M_

 

A smile spreads across Arthur's face. He is not alone in this world full of idiots. And at least spellcheck was enough for him.

 

_I just had a conversation with an angry French man and I have to go and resolve and argument between two adults over a coffee machine. Help._

 

He glances at the clock. Nine Thirty. He resolves to leave at five o clock on the dot today, maybe earlier if he can. It seems like a long way away.

 

_Agents of Shield season 2 is on Netflix – marathon? - M_

 

_I've not seen season 1_

 

_Double Marathon? :) - M_

 

_Yes. Let's do it._

 

_I'll get more cheese puffs. - M_

 

He still thinks Merlin has some kind of psychic powers. Else their go to solution to a bad day at work is the same. Either way, Arthur is grateful. As he slowly gets swamped with forms to sign and decisions to make and an increasingly full inbox, he looks forward to a night of sitting on the sofa criticising the decisions of fictional characters.

There are voices in the apartment when he gets home. Confusion fills him as he stands in the corridor. There is a female voice – it sounds like Gwen – and a male. The voice is confident, relaxed. He laughs and Arthur realises it is Merlin. He'd only ever heard the laugh properly through walls anyway. He was talking. And he didn't sound shy or uncomfortable. A strange feeling spread through Arthur. He couldn't work out what was going on.

He pushed open the door to the lounge. Gwen was sat on the sofa, drinking tea. Merlin was curled up in his usual spot, a smile on his face. He looks different, more animated than Arthur has ever seen him. When he sees Arthur the words fall from his lips and he looks at him, worry replacing the laughter in his eyes. That is the worst part of it all, worse than the confusion or the questions. That for whatever reason, his presence does that to Merlin. He turns and leaves the room. His heart is a roar in his ears and doesn't know what he wants but it isn't this.

There is a soft knock on his door a few minutes later. He hopes it is Merlin, but it is Gwen who peers around the door. She looks sad.

“ Can I come in, Arthur?”

Arthur shrugs. She is going to anyway, if he knows anything about Gwen. She is compelled to help people.

“ He doesn't do it to hurt you, you know.” She says.

Arthur look up at her. She sits down beside him. For the first time in a long time, he feels nothing but friendship towards her. Merlin has really messed with him.

“ I know.” He says. Because he does know that. Even if his first thought had been that this was some cruel joke to mess with him. Merlin's eyes didn't lie and when he had looked at Arthur just then it had broken something inside him.

“ It took months before he could speak to me. We have known each other for years.”

“ Really? I did wonder what you were doing here.”

“I told you about the apartment.” She reminded him. “ I thought you'd get along well. Eventually.”

“We do.”

“ You like him.” Gwen says. It isn't a question. She knows Arthur. He nods miserably.

“He'll get there. It just takes him awhile to feel comfortable with new people.”

Arthur grabs a handful of the bed cover in his fist. He doesn't know who he is frustrated with.

“ I just... I hate that I make him feel uncomfortable.”

Gwen sighs.

“ It's not you, Arthur. You have to understand that. He is the same with everyone. It's just how he is.”

“ I don't understand it.” Arthur mutters. Gwen rests a hand on his shoulder.

“ I know. But you really need to talk to Merlin about it, not me. It's his story to tell.”

“ I'll try.”

“ Just be patient, Arthur, don't rush in with your heart.”

Arthur looks at her.

“ You feel so much. It's one of your best qualities, and also your biggest weakness. Just let him explain and try to understand. It's not as if you aren't without your own baggage.”

As usual, Gwen is talking sense.

“ Tell him I'm not mad.” He asks.

“ Of course.” She smiles at him and leaves the room. Arthur lies down and stares up at the ceiling, hoping for answers to write themselves across the cracked paint. He didn't mind that Merlin was quiet. He wouldn't care if he never spoke a word in his life. It was just the idea that he didn't feel able to with Arthur that bothered him. He wanted Merlin to be OK just being Merlin with him – and he had heard who Merlin was in the few seconds of conversation he'd overheard. He wanted to see Merlin laugh, and greet him good morning and have Merlin look him in the eye when he was mad. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

 

_I'm sorry, Arthur. - M_

 

_Why?_

 

_I'm sorry I'm hurting you. I hate myself for it. - M_

 

_Don't._

 

_Gwen is going now. I'll try and explain in a minute. - M_

 

_OK. Only if you feel able._

 

Arthur closes his eyes. He is more worried than curious.

 

_Right. Basically, I can talk to people if I am comfortable with them – close friends and stuff. Otherwise, it's really, really difficult. It's called selective mutism. - M_

_Are you not comfortable with me?_

 

_Arthur, I really like you. But I've only known you a few weeks. We've been speaking for less than half of that time. I'll get there. - M_

 

_Sorry. I just don't want to make you uncomfortable._

 

_You don't. I keep thinking you'll get bored of talking to me like this though. - M_

 

_No. Has it always been this way?_

 

_It started when I was a kid. Mum wasn't well, and I stayed with different family members most of the time. I was always an anxious kid, and I guess all the different people and confusion just made me close off. - M_

 

Arthur's heart was heavy in his chest. He pictured Merlin, small and alone and confused, unable to ask what was going on or tell anyone how he felt. It made him feel suddenly grateful for his father, asshole he may be, and Morgana, evil as she was. At least he could tell them when he was pissed off.

 

_I'm sorry._

 

_Don't be. I didn't have a tragic life or anything. It just happened. - M_

 

_Can you cure it?_

 

Was that a stupid question? Arthur hoped it wasn't totally insensitive or anything.

 

_Therapy and stuff can work. I did some when I was younger, but I hated the therapist and quit. Guess I've never gone back. - M_

 

_Oh. Is there anything I can do?_

 

_Not really. Be yourself. You can talk to me, if you want. I just wont always be able to respond. - M_

 

_How long did it take with Gwen?_

 

_Awhile. She got really drunk and made a total fool of herself. I took her home. It was fine, after that. - M_

 

_Do you want me to make a fool of myself?_

 

_You already do that plenty. ;) - M_

 

_Why are you so mean to me, Merlin._

 

_To stop your ego taking up the whole room. - M_

 

_Agents of shield?_

 

_Of course. Arthur – I really do like you. I mean it. Thank you, for understanding. - M_

 

Arthur grins. Merlin likes him. Even though he is an idiot. And a cabbage head. Who leaves his socks in the sink.

 

_Like me? Like, like like?_

 

_Are we five, Arthur? You wish. - M_

 

He did. He really, really did wish.

 


	7. Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur contemplates life. Merlin contemplates killing whoever set of the fire alarm. There are cookies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. I have updated something seven days in a row. Go me. I did doodle domestic Merthur in the morning but I can't for the life of me figure out how to upload it ( tips much appreciated.) I mean, I only just figured out italics. So. It's pretty terrible, really, but if you do want to see it, it's in the merthur tag on my tumblr: http://ofboysandravens.tumblr.com/ and also I'm super close to 200 followers so if you like my blog feel free to hang around awhile and send me prompts or whatever. :) 
> 
> Enough self promotion I hope you like the chapter. :)

 

“ Good Morning, Merlin.” Arthur said, grinning. He slid a cup of tea across the table. Merlin wrapped his fingers round it. He offered Arthur a shy smile. Arthur grinned even more broadly. Merlin raised an eyebrow. Arthur pretended to rummage in the cupboard to hide his face. He had a horrible feeling he was blushing. Merlin slid a piece of paper towards him.

 

_You are blushing. - M_

 

_It's sunburn._

 

_It's November – M_

 

_Ssshhh I'm a vampire._

 

_Now I think about it, you do glitter sometimes. - M_

 

_Watch it I'm a dangerous beast of the night._

 

_Keep it PG. It's not even nine am – M_

 

The blush is resolutely not fading. And Merlin... that bastard. He knows.

 

_I will eat everything in this fridge._

 

_The Edam's been there awhile. And that green thing will probably give you food poisoning. - M_

 

_I'll do it for you._

 

_Get food poisoning? That doesn't even slightly make sense. Go to work. - M_

 

Arthur does not want to go to work. As the days go by, he dreads it more and more. He tries to remember why he ended up in a stuffy office making profit when all he wanted to do was help people, but it seemed to have begun a long long time ago and the main reason was Uther Pendragon. He sighed and got up from the table. Merlin scribbled a few more words.

 

_I'll be here later. I'll cook pizza. - M_

 

_Cook?_

 

_Microwave. Swear at a few people for me. I always wish I could. - M_

 

_I swear no one will hold me up without feeling your wrath._

 

_You are a great friend, truly. - M_

 

Arthur left, feeling slightly better. He almost hoped someone would get in his way just so he could text Merlin about it. It was odd to have someone he wanted to share stupid stories with. When he found something funny, the first person he wanted to tell was Merlin, just to see his reaction.

The bus is crowded with more teenagers than Arthur is strictly comfortable with. He should really get a car. It isn't as though he is short for cash but he has gotten used to public transport over the last few months. And parking near their apartment was almost impossible. Whoever had designed those streets had done a terrible job. And the bus may be kind of smelly and stuffy but he liked his journey and the time it gave him to think. It was a good environment for contemplation. In truth though, it was mainly for the people watching opportunities. For example, today, a break up was happening two feet away from him. A make up a meter away. A slightly overweight blonde woman was talking to a dog in her handbag. And a baby was throwing wotsits at a bald man who was almost too tall to be real. Prime entertainment for just a few quid and gum on your shoes.

He could have been any of these people, he thinks. It is just chance that he is stood here in a suit and tie on his way to his job. Sometimes the world is so big. And he works so hard to look smart and seem like he's got it all under control – he's Arthur, heir to the Pendragon, well, everything. He's been shaking hands with famous faces since he had the muscle control to do so. But sometimes he wants something else – something quieter, softer. Less hard edges and numbers. The bus pulls up to his stop. He really should get a car. This contemplation is no good for him. After all, he is Arthur Pendragon, and not a wotsit throwing baby or a slightly deranged middle aged woman. And so he must live his life.

 

_Someone set of the fire alarm. If it is a false call, someone will burn. - M_

 

_You need to work on that temper, Merlin._

 

_I was peacefully removing adverbs! Now my whole morning has been thrown off. - M_

 

_Try cookies. There are a good cure all._

 

_Bring cookies home. I'm not leaving the apartment twice in one day – M_

 

Arthur laughs. He can picture Merlin stood outside in just his socks, glaring at anyone who looks like they might have burnt microwave popcorn or forgot the toast. He makes a note in his phone: Cookies for Merlin, and smiles as he slips it back into his pocket where it sits like a secret.

Outside the apartment, he realises his keys are on the kitchen counter. He knocks, feeling oddly like a guest, clutching his briefcase and a paper bag filled with cookies from the bakery outside his office. Merlin opens the door and squints at him. There are lines on one side of his face and his hair is tousled from sleep. Arthur wonders if anything has ever been cuter. And he petted a baby deer once.

 

“ Hey, Arthur.” Merlin mumbles. Arthur feels his eyebrows shoot up, but he forces them back down. This is not A Big Deal, he tells himself. But his heart is flip flopping in his chest and his stomach does that swoop that it does when you drop down a steep slide or swing too high.

“ Hey, Merlin.” He replies, all casual. “ I brought cookies.” He offers the paper bag. Merlin all but snatches it from his hands and inhales deeply. He sighs and heads back to his chair. Arthur slips his shoes off and sits on the couch. The sun is seeping through the window and soaking the room, softening the shadows. Arthur wraps the moment up carefully, making a deliberate memory. The world is burning softly, he thinks, in the most beautiful way.

 

 


	8. Socks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's socks bother Arthur. Arthur's refusal to wear a decent amount of clothing around the house bothers Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry you have waited two days for these measly 300 words. It is shameless flirting and silliness. There is no depth. There is no showing, only telling. The reason for this is simple - 3 exams in the next week. My grades determine where I can apply for uni. So I have to slightly neglect this story and it's readers for 1 week. I'll still update but it might be a short chapter or a few days. Sorry. 
> 
> On a more cheerful note, Owlwithafringe, who I wrote this fic for originally, drew wonderful fanart. So here is a link to that: http://owlwithafringe.tumblr.com/post/119802134493/fan-art-for-a-silence-that-is-far-from-empty-by
> 
> Enjoy :)

 

_Your sock has a hole in._

 

Merlin's toe is exposed to the world and it is slowly but surely driving Arthur to the brink of insanity.

 

_It's so I can sense danger – M_

 

_Is there any danger?_

 

_Yeah. Catching your stupid. - M_

 

_Pretty sure it isn't contagious._

 

_Pretty sure it is. Almost forgot my shirt this morning. - M_

 

Arthur is momentarily distracted by the idea of Merlin stumbling shirtless into the kitchen. He never shows more than a few centimetres of skin at any given time.

 

_When have I ever done that?_

 

_Um, let's see... you don't even have a shirt on now. - M_

 

_I didn't forget._

 

_Well why are you unclothed, pray tell? - M_

 

Should he? He shouldn't. He should not make a lewd comment that will make Merlin flush pink as dawn. He shouldn't, but he is 98% sure he is going to. He is a terrible, terrible person.

 

_For your personal viewing pleasure, Merlin. I have to show off those muscles to someone._

 

As predicted, a delicate pink spreads across Merlin's high cheekbones. Arthur's heartbeat picks up, a thrill running through him. Merlin recovers quickly though.

 

_And what is it you are doing at the gym all the time, if not showing off? - M_

 

_Maintaining the muscle for you, of course._

 

_Cabbage head. - M_

 

_I'll take that to mean I win this round._

 

_But not the war – M_

 

_Pizza?_

 

_Pizza. - M_

 

Arthur gets up and goes to hunt down his shoes. It works out quicker to walk than order in. They seem to be last on the delivery route, even though they live five minutes away from the restaurant. Even cold pizza is good pizza, but he does prefer it before it congeals. When he returns, Merlin hands him a slip of paper with his order on and a crumpled note.

 

“ See you later, Alligator.” Arthur says. He abruptly feels like an idiot. But then there is a whisper behind him.

 

“ In awhile, crocodile.”

 

They are a pair of idiots. Arthur knows this. Arthur does not care. If Merlin spoke entirely in rhyme it would not bother him one bit.

 


	9. One step back, Two steps forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin opens up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, a healthy 1200 words to make up for my absence. Only one exam left though, so that is a plus. :) Hope you all enjoy this.

 

Sleep fogs Arthur's vision. Coffee fumes filter up to his brain, kicking the cogs into motion. He stretches, toes curling against the cool tiles. Blue light fills the kitchen, bright and cool. He looks out the window. The world is iced white, the houses wrapped up in blankets. He loves the snow and the way it wipes everything clean just for a little while. He could be anyone on a snowy day. Everything is hidden and there is this fragile illusion of perfection that he just wants to roll in.

Merlin pads into the kitchen and reaches towards Arthur. He hands over the tea that he has just made. Merlin tucks his feet under him.

“S'freezing.” He mumbles.

“It's snowing!”

“No.” Merlin shakes his head. Arthur wonders why it's easier for him when he's half asleep.

“ Yes.”

“Bother.”

“Bother?” Arthur laughs a little. Merlin reminds him of Winnie the Pooh.

Merlin flushes red and looks down into his mug. He doesn't say anything else. Arthur's heart is stuck in his throat, along with his foot.

“ Merlin?”

Merlin shakes his head. He stands up. His hands are clenched around his mug and the tips of his ears are flushed red. He meets Arthur's eye for a second before glancing away. His eyes are wide and full, shining. Arthur wishes words would spill instead of tears. He just shakes his head and leaves the room. Arthur sits down at the table and rests his head on his hands. It's baby steps, he tells himself. Two forward, once back. He isn't sure what went wrong, but he will try his best not to do it again.

He pulls the pad of note paper that now lives on the kitchen table towards him and chews on the end of a pen. It is the wrong end and the bitter taste of ink fills his mouth.

 

_Merlin, I don't know what I did, or if it was even me. I'm sorry, and if you tell me what it was, I'll do my best to be better. We are in this together, OK? I'm working with you. And we do what you are cool with – Arthur. P.S Don't feel bad, if you do._

 

He slides the note under Merlin's door and sits on the other side, back against the wall.

 

“ Merlin? I'm just outside. Just so you know.” he sits quietly, waiting. He isn't sure what he is waiting for. He wishes they didn't need words so much, wishes he wasn't so reliant on little symbols and sounds to understand Merlin. He knows so much about him but also so little. It's like they have scratched the surface and the easiest stuff is gone now. They either plateau, talking about cheese and Jon Snow for ever, or go deeper. And that isn't easy for either of them. As long as Merlin is silent he can focus on that, but once they overcome that, there is Arthur. It's been so long, he thinks, since he has felt anything like this. For anyone, but especially a guy. He isn't sure if he's ready yet.

 

“ Arthur?”

 

Arthur sits upright, heart beating double time.

 

“ Yeah?”

 

“ I'm sorry.”

 

“ Don't be.”

 

“ It's just, you laughed. And, I don't know...” Merlin trails off.

 

“ It's fine, Merlin. Are you OK, talking like this?”

 

“ It's... easier like this. Through the door. I know it's silly.”

 

“ No. If you feel safer like that.” Arthur hates that Merlin ever feels unsafe with him.

 

“ Arthur?”

 

“ Yeah?”

 

“ You have a really nice laugh. Sorry I freaked.”

 

“ Thank you. So do you.”

 

“ When have I ever laughed?”

 

Arthur smiles at the memory.

 

“ A few weeks back. You hid in your room and cackled because I use pinterest.”

 

There is a sharp inhale from inside Merlin's room.

 

“ Don't. Don't say anything.” Merlin warns.

 

“ And I said we could be pin twins.”

 

Merlin cackles and Arthur feels a grin stretching across his face. His heart is still beating doubletime, but joyously now. He laughs as well and soon his stomach hurts from it but he wouldn't stop it for the world.

 

“ Stop. Laughing.” Merlin wheezes. “I'm not fit enough for this.”

 

“ Sorry.” Arthur gasps. “ It just... it feels good to laugh with you, Merlin.”

 

A silence falls and Arthur worries he said something wrong again.

 

“ I know.” Merlin sighs. “ I'm trying, Arthur. It's just, I get so anxious.”

 

“ We are getting there.” Arthur says. He doesn't think about how this is the longest conversation they have ever had. He doesn't think about the wall between them. That doesn't matter.

 

“ I want you to understand how much I want to speak.” Merlin says softly. Arthur wonders whether his back is pressed against the wood as well, whether they are mirror images of one another right now.

 

“ The words are there, but it is like I am frozen. And you just look at me, so hopeful, and I... I feel so fucking useless.”

 

“ Merlin. I don't mind.”

 

“ You do though. You must.” He sounds frustrated. Arthur wishes the door would melt away so he could feel Merlin against him. Maybe if they were touching he could communicate how much he didn't mind silently, with his hands and mouth and heart. But he can't and he isn't sure he knows the right words to respond, so he waits for Merlin to keep talking.

 

“ Not many people wait. Gwen was patient, but Gwen is an angel. I was almost there with a guy, once, and he gave up.”

 

Arthur feels an uncomfortable sensation in his gut, almost anger, almost pain. It burns through him, the idea of Merlin with another man, his eyes hopeful, fists unclenched. The anger at the guy for giving up is worse than the jealousy though.

 

“ Merlin, I wouldn't care if you never uttered a word. That would be fine with me.”

 

“ He fucked me up, Arthur. More than I already was. I just want you to know that, OK. I am difficult and irrational and …”

 

“ Great? Funny? Smart?”

 

“ Don't get ahead of yourself.”

 

Arthur smiles.

 

“ I like you, Merlin. I really, really, like you. I'm just going to use this door as an opportunity for raw honesty, OK? It scares me how damn much I like you. You are weird and your socks make me mad but I have more fun with you than anyone else in my life and we don't even leave the damn house.”

 

Merlin is silent. Arthur waits. His pulse is heavy in his ears and he can almost feel the blood rushing in and out of his heart, in and out, in and out, and he waits for Merlin to say something, anything.

 

“ You aren't so bad yourself, Arthur.” Merlin whispers.

 

“ Thanks, cabbagehead.”

 

“ I hate cabbage.”

 

“ I love it.”

 

“ hey, Arthur?”

 

“ Yeah?”

 

“ We should go out to dinner sometime.”

 

“ Are you asking me out, Merlin?”

 

“ A little bit.”

 

“ OK”

“ OK? Is that yes?”

 

“ Something like that.” Arthur can only manage to play it cool because of the barrier between them. Right now he is grateful, because he is blushing redder than coals and he feels like he might float away. Perhaps he should run out into the snow to cool down.

 


	10. first date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin takes Arthur out to dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams are over! I now have a lack of excuses for not updating. Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)

 

“ Do I need to get you flowers or anything?” Arthur asked. He'd spent the morning changing his shirt over and over. The voice of reason in his head that pointed out his shirts were all identical was swiftly sent away. Merlin looked up from his book, one eyebrow raised.

“ OK. No flowers? Throw me a bone here, Merlin. I'm very inexperienced.”

Merlin splutters.

“ What!” Arthur's voice comes out louder than he means it too.

“ Inexperienced?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“ You don't look like someone who has had a barren dating life.”

Arthur frowned. 

“ Are you saying I'm slutty?” 

“ It's fine if you are.” 

“ Well. I'm not. I mean, not with...” He trails off, uncomfortable. Merlin looks at him briefly and Arthur's body feels hot under Merlin's eyes all of a sudden. 

“With?” Merlin prompts, and Arthur is struck by the oddness of Merlin prompting him to speak. 

“ I've never dated a guy before, OK?”

The look of surprise on Merlin's face is almost comical. It is the most dramatic expression Arthur has ever seen on him. He doesn't say anything, but a few seconds later sends a note flying across the room. It's been like this for the past couple of days, an odd mix of soft conversation and scribbled words and whispers through doors. It works though, and Arthur has come to like the freedom paper allows. It's easier to confess in ink, he thinks. 

 

_We'll take it slow. - M_

 

Arthur looks at Merlin. The corner of his mouth is turned up and his eyes glitter with a wonderful kind of mischief. And it's that more than the talking that gets Arthur. It was never the silence that bothered him, it was the Merlin's closed posture and the way he tried to shrink himself invisible when Arthur was in the room – hands in sleeves, eyes down, armoured. Now, even in the moments when his lips seal themselves shut, he can laugh and he is so much more when he isn't imprisoned by anxiety. It was a shadow of Merlin that Arthur began to fall for – the real him is slowly being revealed, layer by layers, and it seems he grows brighter as every day goes on.

 

“ Not too slow.” Arthur says. They are daring words to say out loud and they hang for a moment before Merlin's face cracks open into a grin. His heart relaxes.

 

_I just thought I should let you know, I'm saving myself for marriage. - M_

 

_I'll go buy a ring._

 

_Seriously though, it might take awhile before I am ready to progress to anything... well, you know. It's difficult for me. To be that open, I mean. - M_

 

_It's OK._

 

_Good. Now sort your shirt out or we will be late for the reservation. - M_

Arthur changes one last time and pulls his shoes on. Merlin is waiting at the door. He is dressed plainly, as he always is, in a slim fitting shirt and black jeans. A small smile plays across his lips and Arthur swears his heart skips a beat.

 

“ Hey.” He whispers.

 

“Idiot.” Merlin whispers back. He shrugs on a jacket and opens the door. The night seeps into the hall, freezing and black. Arthur shivers as the cold air hits him. He steps outside in front of Merlin.

 

“ Where is it we are going?” Arthur asks.

“Italian.” Merlin replies.

Arthur looks at him.

“ For the cheese?”

“ For the cheese.”

“ Should I be jealous?”

Merlin laughs.

“Almost certainly.”

 

The wind is sharp, biting at Arthur's lips. It is jealous, he thinks, of the two of them, too wrapped up in the simple joy of each other to pay attention to it's antics. Old leaf skeletons are whipped up, all that remain of summer. It's dead, the world. This sleepy town is in hibernation. But something is being born in the winter, he thinks. Something that is MerlinandArthur.

Merlin brushes against Arthur, his arm just touching him as they walk. Arthur nudges him back. They are like children, too shy to speak yet, pulling pigtails until the bridge between friend and lover is crossed.

The restaurant is small and warm. The glow of warm air and food envelops them both and the slip a booth in the corner. Merlin sits in the corner and Arthur sits between him and the world, a buffer. Merlin puts a notebook and pen on the table. He had said earlier that he didn't know if he;d be able to speak whilst they were out.

“OK?” Arthur asks. Merlin looks like he is on the cusp of shrinking into himself. He nods.

“Yes.” His voice is a whisper, a rasp.

“I'll order.” Arthur says.

“ Thank you.” Merlin takes of his jacket and sits up straight. His lips are pressed firmly together but he looks at Arthur and Arthur understands how much Merlin wants to be present right now. He finds Merlin's foot under the table and presses his own against it. He doesn't know if the contact will make things easier or harder. A blush spreads across Merlin's cheeks, a pink unfurling of petals. He smiles.

“I'm fine. Really. It's just... I can't remember the last time I was able to speak in a setting like this.”

Arthur hadn't fully understood how momentous Merlin asking him to go out was until now.

“It's OK if you have to stop. I understand.”

Merlin smiles hesitantly.

“No. I like talking to you. And I don't like talking to anyone.”

Arthur grins.

“ I guess that makes me special, then?”

Merlin shrugs.

“ Second only to this place's pizza.”

Arthur laughs. There is a warm, bubbly feeling in his stomach. He feels almost drunk, but everything is sharper, fizzier.

“ So, your first date with a guy?” Merlin asks.

Arthur shrugged.

“ Guess I never found the right guy.”

“Wait, so I am the first?”

“ I kissed a guy. When I was a teenager. It was awful.”

Merlin frowned.

“ Because he was a terrible kisser.” Arthur added. “ I am absolutely sure I like guys.”

“OK. Good.”

Arthur feels better, somehow, telling Merlin this. It feels like they are on equal ground, both of them as unsure and nervous as the other.

A waitress comes and takes their order. She tells them they make an adorable couple. Merlin shrinks into the corner, though the smile doesn't leave his face. Their food arrives and Merlin somehow eats and entire pizza so drenched in cheese that Arthur is worried he'll have to rush Merlin to A&E due to clogged arteries. They talk about the weather and the people in the next booth and game of thrones and it's shy and sweet and Arthur laughs a lot. He knows Merlin better than he knows nearly anyone by now, but they don't run out of things to say and it still feels like a beginning.

A couple of glasses of wine seem to relax Merlin, and he laughs louder, talks with his hands and his eyes. The blush doesn't leave his cheeks and sometimes Arthur forgets what he is saying because Merlin looks so free.

It is raining when they leave and Merlin grins as the droplets spatter across his face.

“Merlin, it is raining. Please look at least annoyed.”

“ I like the rain.” Merlin shrugs. Arthur shakes his head.

“ Are you one of those hopeless romantic types?”

“ No. I just feel like the world is crying with me. Plus, it smells good.”

“You aren't sad, are you?”

“ Maybe the sky is crying happy tears, Arthur.” Merlin slips his hand into Arthur's and he can't think of a clever reply because Merlin's hands are cool and strong and his thumb is brushing over Arthur's knuckle and Arthur thinks that if Merlin kissed him, here in the rain, that he might just pass out.

“Arthur? Are you OK?” Merlin looks worried. He lets go of Arthur's hand. Arthur takes it back.

“ I'm fine. Wonderful. You surprised me, is all.”

They walk quietly, breath frosting in front of them. Their steps aren't in sync, not yet, and their elbows bump awkwardly, unused to being so close together, but Arthur wouldn't change a thing.

“ Thank you, for dinner.” Arthur says, whisper soft.

“ No problem. You are paying, next time.”

“ I look forward to it.”

“ No seafood though. I hate seafood.”

“ Noted.”

 


	11. Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur can't take his job anymore. Uther is less than impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a long, Arthur-centric chapter, because I feel like the story is told from his point of view but focuses almost entirely on Merlin - and Merlin isn't the only one with issues. So here you go. I'm kind of unsure about how this chapter reads - I feel like it is OK but I would appreciate feedback letting me know what you think. :) Also, I'm lazy with details, so I have no idea what exactly the Pendragon company does - suggestions are welcome. I've written that it is vaguely technology based but tbh I don't have any good ideas. I hope you enjoy it - plus, the next chapter involves road trips and camping so that will be fun.

Merlin hands Arthur coffee. It's become an unspoken rule that whoever staggers into the kitchen first makes the drinks. Arthur likes Merlin's coffee better than his own so sometimes he waits until he hears Merlin get up to move. But then he inevitably feels guilty and gets up extra early the next day.

He ties his tie and checks his planner. Another meeting today. Some multimillion corporation discussing advertising. He takes a sip of his coffee and closes his eyes, savouring the quiet moment before the day grabs him.

“ Your tie is wonky.” Merlin says. Arthur fiddles with the fabric. Merlin shakes his head. He pads over to Arthur's chair and reaches out, straightening the tie. His fingers brush against Arthur's chest and his breath halts. Merlin's fingers tremble as he steps back. Arthur looks up at him. Merlin looks back, lips parted. A stray strand of hair falls into his eyes and Arthur's finger itch to brush it away but his arms wont move. Merlin exhales and the moment collapses in on itself and they are back in the real world, hot coffee and cold toast and jobs to go to.

“ I hate my job.” Arthur says. Right now it is true.

“ Quit.” Merlin shrugs, as if it is nothing. As if he could just throw the towel in, cast off the weight of Pendragon inc.

“ I can't.” Arthur sighs.

“Why?”

Arthur rests his chin in his hands.

“ I have to take over, after father.”

“ What do you even do?”

“ All sorts. I mainly organise contracts and oversee things. Father makes all the important decisions, I do the boring stuff.”

“ So a big technology company isn't the kind of thing you want to devote your life to?”

Arthur shrugs.

“ It's all just a bit shallow. I don't feel like I'm contributing anything positive to the planet.”

“ Except really fast laptops?”

“ I didn't even design them. I just signed the relevant bits of paper.”

Merlin sits down opposite Arthur and looks him in the eye.

“ You only live once, Arthur. Don't waste it.”

Arthur stands up in outrage.

“ Merlin! Did you honestly just yolo me? Are you kidding right now? Because I am serious. I'm having a crisis.”

Merlin tips his head back with laughter.

“ I'm sorry.” he gasps. “ I saw my chance and I couldn't resist.”

Arthur grumbles as he washes his cup. He pointedly leaves Merlin's empty mug on the table.

“ I mean it though, Arthur. You could quit.”

“ And what would I do then?”

“ Something else. Whatever you want.”

“ I did a degree in buisness. I know nothing about anything else.”

Merlin shrugs.

“ Go back to uni. It's not as if you are short of money.”

This is true, but Arthur hadn't expected Merlin to take his grumbles about work seriously and he isn't sure he is ready to do anything other than grumble, so he washes Merlin's cup and heads out the door, promising to pick up more milk as he goes.

 

A man is shouting at him about budgets and time frames. His brow is furrowed. A small bead of sweat stands out on his forehead and his eyes burn with a passion for his job that Arthur can't begin to fathom. His mind has wandered to what he will eat if he has time for lunch. The man shouts something again, waving a clipboard at Arthur. Merlin's voice saying one syllable. “ Quit.”

He looks up at the room, glossy wood and shiny metal and suited figures. He has had enough of this apathy for one day.

“ Excuse me.” He says smoothly, in a practised voice. He leaves the room, heart pounding with that exhilaration that only comes with making reckless decisions, the kind that leave you hung in midair, life changed. He catches the next bus home, stopping only to pick up cookies. The sun is bright for November, as if it has come out to oversea Arthur dismantle his life.

Merlin looks up from his laptop in surprise when Arthur walks in.

“ You're early.” he says. “ Like, several hours early.”

Arthur shrugs and sits down, kicking his shoes into the corner.

“ Couldn't face it.”

Merlin doesn't say anything, just nods and goes back to his work. That is what has been missing all of Arthur's life, he realizes. That quiet acceptance that Merlin gives him. Arthur has never had his opinions listened to or respected, not truly. Uther was not a cruel father, but he was not a loving one either.

“Will you go back tomorrow?” Merlin asks. His words come out a little garbled as he has a pen between his teeth. Arthur notices for the first time the scraps of paper littering the table along with an armada of empty tea mugs.

“ Are you OK?” He asks. “ You look a little... frazzled.” It is true – Merlin's hair is sticking up at odd angles from fingers running through it and his eyes look bloodshot from tiredness. Merlin pauses from typing.

“ OK? I'm fine.” he types for another minute or so. “ Oh. Because of all this?” he gestures to the chaos. “ Plot finally unravelled itself. I've been working on the same scene for months, stuck, and it's finally clicked.”

“ Wait, you are writing? Like, your own stories?”

Merlin laughs, a little self depreciating.

“ yeah. It was always the dream, I guess. Then I got sucked into fixing other peoples stories.”

Arthur looks at Merlin. He is working with a passion that Arthur has never felt about anything other than a person.

“ Published anything?”

“ Nah. It's not easy, getting published. Believe me, I know.”

“ But you can do all the … editing things yourself, right?”

Merlin laughs. “ That would be a bad plan. No one spots their own typo's.”

“ Maybe I'll read something sometime.”

“ Maybe. Now, are you going back tomorrow?”

Arthur thinks. Is he?

“ I don't know.” he says honestly.

“ Take a few days off sick. Think about what you want.” Merlin says. “ Anyway, I was thinking, I wanted to do some research for my novel, and... do you want to take a trip?”

“ Can you even drive?”

“ That's why I'm asking you.”

“ Oh. Yeah.” Arthur agrees without thinking, because it is Merlin and because his face is lit up with an optimism that he couldn't bear to quash.

“Don't you want to know where I want you to drive?”

Arthur shrugs. “ I'll find out when we get there. I don't have a car.”

“ We'll hire one.”

“ It's a plan.” A mad, harebrained, foggy plan with no details or specifics. It's perfect.

“ Hey, Merlin?”

“ yeah?”

“ You should publish stuff, if it's what you want.”

Merlin smiles and scrawls a note.

 

_And you should leave your job, if it's what you want. - M_

_Maybe I will._

 

Arthur is falling asleep on the couch – Merlin has claimed the tv to watch some old history documentary about bones or something – when his phone rings. It is an ominous ring and his heart sinks. Sometimes you just know things, and right now Arthur knows that the caller ID flashing on his phone will be Uther Pendragon. He resolves to fire whoever grassed on him. He contemplates not answering, but that might cause Uther to worry and that would undoubtedly make things worse.

 

“ Father?”

“ Arthur.”

“ Good evening.”

“ You left a very important meeting today. Why?”

“ I wasn't feeling well.”

“ Do you need to see a Doctor?”

“ What? No. Look, I'm taking a few days off, OK.”

There is a heavy pause on the other end of the line.

“ Arthur. You know how important the business is.”

“ I know how important it is to you. But I am taking time off – I'm going away.”

“ Going away? Where?”

“ I don't know yet. I'm going on a roadtrip with my room mate.”

“ Room-mate? Who is this room-mate?”

“ Well, father, if you ever bothered to ring about personal matters that didn't involve millions of pounds, maybe you would know.”

Uther grunts.

“ It was going to be a personal call. You need to come to dinner on Sunday – a friend of mine is coming over, he has a daughter about your age. I think you'll like her.”

Arthur clenches his fist. There is a rage slowly boiling inside of him. He thinks that maybe it has been simmering for a long time and it is finally ready to surface.

“ I'm not coming, Father. Not if you are trying to set me up.”

“ Look, Arthur, you are getting older now. You need to think about settling down, getting ready to take over the business. Get a nice girl to take care of you. I'm not as young as I once was.”

“ No one is as young as they once were, father. It's called ageing.”

“ Arthur.” His father sounds exasperated now, as if he is arguing with a petulant five year old. As if the fight has already been won.

“ I'm seeing someone.” Arthur blurts.

Merlin's eyes nearly bug out of his head. Arthur presses a finger to his lips and then realizes how stupid it is to sshhh Merlin.

“ Who is she? Where did you meet her?” His father sounds genuinely surprised. “ It's not Gwen again is it? She was no good for you son.”

“ There was nothing wrong with Gwen.” Arthur grits out. “ And it's a he, not a she.”

Uther chokes. Arthur hangs up the phone and sits down heavily. His breathing is ragged, as though he has been running, and he feels almost dizzy.

“ Arthur? Are you OK?” Merlin looks worried.

Arthur exhales a long breath, a breath he has been holding since he was fifteen years old.

“ I think... I think I just came out to my father.”

Merlin looks at him for awhile. Arthur looks back. His secret is out – a secret that he had held inside of him like poison for so many years until he had finally been able to accept himself. And now it is out and those final shadows from his childhood – meticulously cleared internet histories and avoidance of pronouns and self loathing – are gone.

“ I'll go make pizza.” Merlin says softly. Arthur nods. It has been a strange, strange day.

“ Oh, Arthur?”

“ yeah?”

“ Are we “ seeing each other” ?”

Arthur shrugs.

“ if you want to be.”

Merlin shrugs back.

“ let's see how the second date goes, hey?”

Arthur nods. He doesn't need a second date though. There is someone in the kitchen who remedies situations with food and marathons terrible tv shows and laughs at him incessantly. Someone who makes his heart beat doubletime and accepts him for who he is, not what he is going to inherit. Someone who, even though it terrified him, let Arthur into his life. Arthur has already fallen and he can't even bring himself to worry about when he hits the ground.

 


	12. Preparation ( Or rather, a lack of it.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uther tries to talk to his son. Arthur and Merlin embark on an ill planned camping adventure to Scotland. In November.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of an odd, in between journey chapter. But I'm super excited to share the next chapter with you all because ... things happen. ;)  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy. And once again, thank you all for your lovely, lovely comments - they really do make my day. :)

The pile of things waiting to go in the car is steadily growing. Merlin has produced a tent and an assortment of camping gear from somewhere. There are several large bags of cheespuffs along with assorted tin cans and packets of food. A large notebook, camera and laptop joined the pile, as well as what appears to be a small solar panel.

“ Merlin?” Arthur calls. He looks at his own things – a small bag with spare clothes and a book and not much else.

“ Yes?” Merlin sticks his head out of his room. Arthur realises he has never seen the interior of Merlin's room.

“What exactly are we going to do?”

“Camp in a forest for a few days.”

“ Why?”

“ Reasons. I need to experience surviving in a primitive way. Also, you look like you need to get away.”

“ Pretty sure cheespuffs aren't primitive. Nor is your laptop. Is this something you do often?”

Merlin grins. “ It isn't the first time I've vanished off into the wild.”

Somehow, Arthur had never pegged Merlin for the adventurous type, with his attachment to clean socks and comfortable chairs and avoidance of most of the human race. But then again, a forest would not require a whole lot of talking on Merlin's part.

“ Should I bring more books?” Arthur asks. It looks like the trip may last awhile.

“ Probably. Unless you want to meditate or something. Or hunt.”

“ Hunt?”

“ Eh... I don't think that would work out well. You don't look like you go outside much.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, affronted.

“ I absolutely could hunt. Rich family remember – I'm excellent at clay pigeon shooting.”

“ I'll lend you my survival books.”

Arthur just shakes his head, but part of him likes the idea of going back to basics, living as they were intended to live. Maybe it would be good to find out if natural selection really would favour him. He wasn't going to turn down the cheesepuffs though. He hefts a bag onto his shoulder and heads out to the landrover they had hired.

“ Ready?” Merlin asks, appearing at the door with the last bag.

“ You do realise this is kind of broke back reminiscent, right?”

Merlin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Arthur coughs.

“ Don't worry, Arthur. I brought lube.”

Arthur splutters, feeling his face burn.

“ Kidding.” Merlin says, though his smirk hints otherwise. Since his lips unsealed, Merlin was a whole different person to be around. He was still quiet from time to time – when he was annoyed he clammed up and when he was stressed it was back to text messages or note passing, but when he was like this, fired up and excited, he was … impossible, Arthur thought. Lewd and amusing and an absolute idiot. Arthur loved it.

They shut the boot of the car and climbed in. Due to their lack of a vehicle normally, neither of them owned a sat nav. So Merlin sat in the passenger side with several maps and the cheesepuffs and Arthur just hoped he was a good navigator. He hadn't ever embarked on such a long drive before.

His phone rang just as they were about to pull of the street. Arthur sighed heavily. He hadn't spoken to his father since he hung up yesterday.

“ You should get it. Might not be any signal once we arrive.”

Arthur climbs out and paces up the street.

“ Arthur?” His father sounds uncomfortable.

“ Yes.” He isn't going to make this easy for Uther.

“ I think we should talk.”

“ Look, I'm just leaving.”

“ I wasn't asking, Arthur.”

“ I'm a grown man, father. You can't just give me orders.”

“ I don't know what's come over you, Arthur. This... boy you are seeing... is he corrupting you?”

A bitter laugh escapes Arthur's lips.

“ I am going to explain something to you very simply – no one makes you gay, dad.”

“ You aren't gay. What about Gwen?”

“ Look, I'm not going to defend my sexuality to you. You are stupid about these things.”

“ Arthur? I love you. I just don't understand what has gotten into you.”

“ That is because you don't understand anything different to your idea of what is right.” Arthur sighs. Uther is set like cement in his ways. His father does love him, Arthur knows this, but it doesn't stop him from being infuriating.

“ Look, you need to go back to work, Son. Let's have dinner, catch up properly.”

“ I'm going away. There will be no signal. I'll call you when I get back. But I'm living life on my terms, OK? I can't live the same life you have lived just because we share a name. I'm a different person.”

Uther is quiet.

“ Fine. Enjoy your trip. Are you with him?”

“ His name is Merlin, Dad. And he isn't a boy, he's twenty five.”

“ Goodbye.” Uther says stiffly.

“ Goodbye, Father.” Arthur hangs up the phone and returns to the car. Merlin looks at him. It's not a prompt to speak but the offer is clear.

“ You know? I actually think we might be making progress.” Arthur says as he starts the car.

 

…

 

Merlin is asleep in the passenger seat, his face pressed against the window. He looks fragile when he sleeps, delicate and innocent. Arthur sneaks glances at him every few minutes – feather soft eyelashes brushing pale skin, a tiny constellation of freckles on his jaw, full lips parted in a dream. The light is fading and Arthur realizes that he as agreed to go camping in November. In Scotland. This is actually quite a stupid idea, he thinks.

Sometime after midnight, Arthur pulls into a layby. He gets a blanket from the back and throws it over Merlin, who mumbles thanks. He rests his own eyes for awhile before getting back behind the wheel. He's always enjoyed anti social hours, if he is honest, and he wakes up when the rest of the country goes to sleep. They should arrive at the forest before morning, though he will undoubtedly spend the remainder of the night either leaning on the steering wheel or squished into the back seat.

“ Arthur?” Merlin wakes up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “ Sorry I fell asleep.”

“ It's OK. It's easy driving – roads are deserted.” A handful of drivers have passed him in the last hour, headlights like lone fireflies in a matt black world. The only other beings he has seen were a handful of deer, eyes silver in the headlights and feet fast as they scattered into the trees.

“Where are we?”

“ Not far now, if we are going the right way. Another hour or so. We probably should have timed this better.”

Merlin laughs.

“ This trip was not terribly well planned out full stop.” He said. “ Normally, I spend weeks planning these things.”

“ I'm actually good at planning.” Arthur said. He was – it was why he was so good at his job. He'd always been able to tie al the different threads together, pull things into a finished product, job done. But then, on the flip side, he was rash and rushed into things with his heart and not his head all too often. Case in point.

“ The sleeping bags are basically the warmest you can get. Plus there are extra blankets and linings and things, so we wont be cold. The forest is safe – no chance of landslides or anything. It will be fine.”

“ And we have plenty of food.” Arthur added. “ And I have all the game of thrones books, so I'm sorted.”

“ What could go wrong?” Merlin grinned.

“Don't ask that.” Arthur warned. He didn't want to tempt fate into throwing bad luck their way. They finally reached a small carpark on the edge of the forest Merlin had directed them too. Arthur closed his eyes and slept from sheer exhaustion, despite the discomfort. Merlin, it seemed, was part cat. He curled his limbs up into a position that should not be even remotely comfortable and snored softly.

 


	13. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin gets mad and Scottish weather is predictably awful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a turning point of sorts, I guess. Feedback much appreciated for this chapter. Enjoy. :)

Arthur climbed out of the car, stretching out his stiff muscles. Weak sunlight warmed his face slightly. It was a still day, though there were more clouds than Arthur would have liked.

“ Looks like rain.” Merlin comments, joining Arthur at the bonnet of the car.

“ Do you have any idea how much I want coffee right now?”

Merlin laughs.

“ No coffee in the wild, Arthur.”

Arthur turned to look at Merlin.

“ Are you kidding me?”

Merlin held his hands up in surrender.

“ I brought coffee!”

“ OK. Good. Let's do this.”

An hour later, they stood in a small clearing with a pile of bags on the ground. Despite the chilly November air, Arthur had stripped down to his t- shirt. He swore Merlin had given him the heaviest bags to carry.

“ I thought camping had... camp-sites and things.” Arthur said, surveying the expanse of trees surrounding them doubtfully.

“ Wild camping, Arthur. I like it better this way – it's quiet.”

It is, in that way of nature. The sound of cars and shouting is absent, no horns or engines or doors slamming. Instead there is the soft rustle of leaves, the cool trickle of a stream and the odd call of a bird.

“ Just to be clear. There are no bears in Scotland right?”

Merlin just shakes his head and pulls the tent out. They spread it out and Arthur looks at the mass of fabric in alarm. Family holidays have never involved camping.

“ ARTHUR!” Merlin shouts, almost making him fall over in shock. “ THAT IS NOT HOW TENTS WORK.”

Arthur disentangles himself from a knot of ropes and tent pegs.

“ You... shouted at me!” he says slowly. Merlin blinks at him. “ Like... actually bellowed.”

“ Arthur.” Merlin sounds unimpressed. Arthur realizes he is still stood on what should be the tent door.

“ Merlin. I am so happy. I could kiss you.”

Merlin blushes faintly.

“ You could.” He murmurs, untying a knot. Arthur contemplates trying to approach Merlin, but the chances of him falling on his face are very high.

“ Sorry. I've never been camping before.”

“ Go and collect some sticks for firewood.” Merlin says. He doesn't meet Arthur's eye but Arthur sees the smile playing across his lips. Maybe they will get around to that kiss sooner rather than later, Arthur thinks. The prospect makes him grin like an idiot.

“ Arthur.” Merlin says. “ Wood.” Wood indeed, Arthur thinks, as he sets off into the trees. He can't remember the last time he was outside like this, just immersed in nature. He gathers up an armful of twigs and fallen branches, having the sense to find dryer ones where he can. When he returns, Merlin has put the tent up and is building a small fire pit. He has cut a piece of turf and put it to one side, ready to replace when they leave. He is gathering up stones when Arthur puts the pile of wood down.

“ We have a stove. Do we really need a fire?”

“ You have clearly never experienced the joy of a camp fire. I do feel terrible for you and your sheltered childhood.”

“ We had fires!” Arthur protested. “ On bonfire night. And inside.”

Merlin grins. “ You'll love it.”

At that moment, the heavens open and rain pours down, soaking them almost instantly. Arthur just looks at Merlin, who offers him a sheepish smile and throws a piece of tarpaulin over the bags before crawling into the tent. Arthur joins him.

“ I'll love it?” He asks. Merlin elbows him.

“ Just listen.” He whispers. Arthur does so. The rain is thunderous, beating a chaotic rhythm on the roof of the tent. Somehow the colours of the forest seem richer, deep greens and browns. And the smell is incredible, earthy and fresh. Arthur had never understood people who enjoyed the rain, but right now there was something special about huddling beside Merlin as the world is washed clean.

“ This is the worst camping weather.” He informs Merlin. “ Everything is going to be soggy.”

Merlin pulls out a notebook and writes down a single word.

 

_Petrichor – M_

 

What?

 

The smell of earth after rain – M

 

Nerd.

 

“ You really like it out here, huh?” Arthur asks. Merlin nods. Arthur feels the movement in Merlin's body against his, suddenly aware of how close together they are.

“ Thanks for bringing me then.” He says. He has the feeling the Merlin doesn't take trips with too many people.

“ Just don't try and help too much.” Merlin says and Arthur realizes he has spoken enough that he can now recognise a smile in his voice. He slips an arm around Merlin cautiously. Merlin stiffens for a moment but then his body relaxes.

“ Do you... do you ever think about going back?” Arthur asks.

Merlin waits.

“ I mean, to therapy.”

Merlin is quiet and Arthur wonders if this will need to be done on paper.

“ Everyday.” He whispers. The rawness in Merlin's voice tears at Arthur. Arthur turns to look at him. Merlin looks back.

“I wish I could help.” Arthur says softly. “ You know... I could roleplay. As a shop keeper or something.”

“Idiot.” Merlin whispers, shaking his head. “ Thanks though.”

“ It wasn't my best idea.” Arthur murmurs. His pulse is pounding, almost drowning out the rain. Merlin is close enough that he can feel his breath ghosting across his lips, sending shivers down his spine.

“ Arthur.” Merlin says.

“ yes?”

“ Sssshhh.” Merlin leans forward, brushing his lips against Arthur's. His breath catches in his throat and he is still for a moment before his body takes over, leaning into the warmth of Merlin. Merlin's mouth is feather soft upon his own, shy as the winter sun. His hand cups Arthur's jaw, thumb sweeping over his cheekbone and Arthur has a second to think that Merlin is surprisingly good at this before he is lost in the feel of him, all earth and old books and mystery, wool and skin and warm weight. His arms are pulling Merlin closer and they are chest to chest. He had never noticed how strong Merlin was, but he is broad and firm against Arthur.

Arthur pulls away, breathing heavy enough that it is almost embarrassing. Merlin's eyes are burning and Arthur feels laid bare under his gaze.

“ Um.” He says intelligently. Merlin hands him the notebook. His smile is wicked but his hand on Arthur's is gentle.

_I'm speechless. You have literally taken my breath away._

 

_You are damn lucky I like cheese or else I'd be out of here. - M_

 

Arthur smiles at Merlin. Merlin tips his chin, leaning in and kissing Arthur again. Arthur is at a loss, drowning in the most exquisite way. He's always been the one to take the lead, with girls. He's a little traditional like that. But now, with Merlin, his feet have been taken from under him and he doesn't mind in the slightest. The kiss is deeper now, open mouthed and heated. Merlin's hand slips under his shirt, fingers icy on his skin. Arthur gasps.

“ Merlin! Your hands are freezing!” Merlin laughs against his lips and slides them further up his back. Arthur can feel his grin against his mouth. What a wonderful feeling, he thinks absently, to feel a smile. Arthur runs his hands through Merlin's hair, tugs him closer until the lines between them blur and Arthur feels like he has always been kissing Merlin because it is more vivid, more real than the rest of life somehow. Arthur moves his mouth away from Merlin's, kissing his jaw, tracing freckles one by one. He buries his face in Merlin's neck, breathes him in until his lungs are full of him and the universe is only the size of their bodies. When they pull apart, Merlin is the one out of breath. It's a wonderful equilibrium between them, Arthur thinks, all push and pull, give and take.

They sit and look out at the forest. The rain is still pouring.

“ It's nice out here.” Arthur says, absently tracing patterns across Merlin's hand.

“ It's simple out here.” Merlin murmurs. “ I can pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist. There are no cars, no jobs, no taxes. It's just... life.”

“ Hey Merlin? You know what's vital to life?”

Merlin looks at him. Arthur wriggles his eyebrows. Merlin shoves him. Arthur lets himself fall onto his back, grinning up at Merlin.

“ You are shameless.” Merlin shakes his head. “ Not to mention lewd. I mean, we are in the forest, in the rain. You could at least come up with a decent line.”

Arthur looks at Merlin. Dusty shadows play across one side of his face, watery light flickering across the other. His eyes are endless, his hair the softest midnight. Arthur has never been a poet, hell, he can barely manage decent English sometimes, but for Merlin he'd buy a thesaurus, just so he could find enough words for his eyes and skin and laugh.

“ What're you thinking?” Merlin says softly.

“ That you are beautiful.” Arthur replies.

Merlin shakes his head.

“ You are.” Arthur props himself onto an elbow.

“ I'm glad I can get my words out now.” Merlin laughs. “ Because these would be awkward notes.”

“ I'd write them. They'd be worse if I wrote them.” Arthur smiles. He can't remember when he last felt so free. It's like the walls of the city had been holding him in without him realizing it.

“ Perhaps we'll see about that.”

“ Give me a pen. I swear, I could write a book right now. The lighting is doing great things for your bone structure.”

Merlin laughs and Arthur notices how he laughs with his whole body, shoulders and stomach shaking.

“ What? Come on, I'm trying for romance here. Don't reject me.”

“ I'm sorry, Arthur. It's just... that was the gayest thing I've heard you say.”

Arthur sits up.

“ Gayer than pinterest?”

“ It's a draw.” he decides.

“ Can we stop living by stereotypes?”

Merlin's shoulders are still shaking. Arthur gets on to his knees, leans in close.

“ hey Merlin?”

“ Yeah?”

“ Want to do something gayer?”

“ Oh my god, Arthur, you are the worst.”

“ Are you complaining?” Arthur pushes Merlin onto his back, straddling him. Merlin fists his hands in the slippery fabric of the sleeping bags and looks up at him with heavy lidded eyes.

“Not a chance.” Arthur grins as he dips down to kiss Merlin and suddenly it's better than before because they are chest to chest, toe to toe, a tangle of limbs and hot breath. Merlin pushes Arthur's shirt up and Arthur pulls it over his head.

“ Shit. No. Backtrack.” He gasps. Merlin looks at him in confusion.

“ It is cold, Merlin. Really, really cold.”

Merlin shoves Arthur off him and unzips one of the sleeping bags, wrapping it around them both. Arthur pulls the fabric tighter until they are cocooned together. Merlin slips off his own shirt and they lie down, skin against skin. Merlin is warm and his arms are strong around Arthur. Arthur marvels at the feeling of a hard muscle against him rather than soft curves. It is so different and yet it is not better or worse. Well, he thinks as Merlin kisses fire across his jaw, maybe better. Because it is Merlin.

“ You are quite good at this.” Arthur says absently. Merlin removes his mouth from Arthur's skin and looks at him.

“ You sound terribly surprised. You're not bad yourself.”

“ It's the muscles.” Arthur shrugs. “ You don't notice anything else.”

“ What, like your excessive saliva?”

“ Excuse me?” Arthur says, affronted. And a little worried.

“ Kidding!” Merlin says, softening the jab with a kiss.

“ You can't do that every-time you offend me, you know.” Arthur mutters.

“ Really? Are you mad?” Merlin kisses him, slow and deep. His hands wander lower, drifting across Arthur's waistband.

“ Yes.” Arthur says, though it comes out weak. Merlin removes his hands and sits up, letting the cold air hit Arthur.

“ No! No! Not mad. Come back.”

“ I'm actually starving. The rain has stopped – I'm finding the cheesepuffs.”

“ If we eat in here, this sleeping bag is yours. I'm not sleeping in crumbs.”

“ Oh come on, I've seen you in the morning before you shower – orange crumbs everywhere. I know you are a midnight snacker.”

“ I don't sleep in crumbs!” Arthur protests.

“ Well maybe you just roll in them, then.”

“ You know Merlin, I must be pretty great.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow.

“ And why is that?”

“ Because I apparently sleep in a bed full of crumbs and frequently smell of cheese flavoured crisps and yet you are sat here, shirtless, with me.”

“ Don't flatter yourself. I just want to lick cheese off of someone's body. It's a fantasy.”

“ That is gross.” Arthur says.

“ It was a joke.”

“ Sure thing.” Arthur pulls his shirt on. “ Food?”

They leave the tent and emerge into the forest. It's almost odd to be outside after being so wrapped up in each other. The rain has stopped but the trees drip on them incessantly as they move things inside. Luckily the tent has a decent sized awning so they don't have to share sleeping space with tin cans and water bottles and such like.

Later, they are sat beside a small fire. The tang of wood smoke fills Arthur's nose. They watch the sparks flying gallantly into the sky, each one determined to make it higher. They all blink out in the end, as all things must. They sure are beautiful whilst they last though, Arthur thinks.

“ It's kind of beautiful out here, Merlin.” Arthur says. Merlin glances over at him. The fire makes him glow. “ I meant it, earlier. You really are beautiful.”

“ Just what every guy wants to hear.” Merlin laughs.

“ Fine. Handsome. Idiot.”

Merlin looks back at him. His smile has not faded for hours. He is different out here, Arthur thinks. It's like Merlin wasn't quite made for the world they live in. He seems older than that, somehow. Ancient trees and whispered spells and times gone by, that is what Merlin is. And time is different out here. The trees are as they have always been.

Arthur realizes that Merlin has been staring at him whilst he contemplated time and the way fire lit sparks in Merlin's eyes.

“ What're you thinking?” he asks, mirroring Merlin's earlier words.

“ I'm thinking I could fall in love with you, Arthur Pendragon.”

 


	14. Lazy Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur squabble ( flirt) and procrastinate getting out of bed. November is cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much to say here. Hope you like it - shameless fluff here tbh - and let me know what you think. :)

 

As Arthur falls asleep, Merlin's words loop around his head. _I'm thinking I could fall in love with you, Arthur Pendragon._ Arthur smiles softly to himself. His reply was simple. _I already have._

When he wakes in the morning the world is the icy blue of winter. There is a chill in the air and he buries himself deeper into his sleeping bag. Merlin's breath tickles his neck – their bodies are separated by thick fabric but Merlin had fallen asleep with his head resting against Arthur's chest and sometime in the night Arthur had drifted downward. The tang of wood-smoke clings to his clothes and skin it is so alien but part of him wishes he could wake up like this every morning. Though maybe with Merlin's body flush against his, tangled into the same fabric.

Merlin stirs beside him. He seems to be in denial about waking up because he pushes his nose into Arthur's neck, hiding from the world. His breath is ticklish and Arthur squirms. Merlin opens his eyes and frowns, confused for a moment. For a heart stopping minute Arthur wonders if he had dreamt yesterday, if they had woken up this close together by mistake. But then Merlin's expression clears and a smile breaks out across his face.

“ Morning.” He murmurs.

“ Morning.” Arthur replies.

“ So.” Merlin says. “ Yesterday, huh?”

“ Yesterday?”

“ I think we could say we are seeing each other now.”

Arthur laughs.

“ We've still not had that second date.”

“ We can count camping.” Merlin concedes.

“ Damp clothes and baked beans? Romantic.”

“ And long walks, rain and sitting around the fire.” Merlin says.

“ I always though I would be the romantic one, but I think I got it wrong.”

Merlin shakes his head. His hair tickles Arthur's chin.

“ No. You think romance is roses and chocolate and a stupid pick up line.”

“ Then what is it? I want to know how to woo you.”

Merlin rolls onto an elbow, smirking down at him. Arthur is distracted by the pale line of his throat.

“ Did you honestly just say woo?”

“ What's wrong with wooing?” Arthur protested. “ I'll sweep you off your feet.”

“ Wooing was a few centuries ago.”

“ You love history.” Arthur points out.

“ True. But I'm no pretty maiden.”

“ Not a maiden, eh? Here I thought you were saving yourself till marriage.”

Merlin shoves him. Arthur catches his wrist, pulling him in and kissing him. A few moments laters he pulls away, though his fingers still play with Merlin's hair. He wonder's if Merlin would grow it if he asked.

“ You got one thing wrong.” He says. Merlin waits. “ You are pretty.”

“ Arthur?”

“ Yes?”

“ You do realize I am a man?”

“ Am I insulting your masculinity?” Arthur grinned. “ Go and chop me some wood, you fine strapping young man.”

Merlin shakes his head in despair.

“ I can't believe I find you attractive.”

Arthur screws up his face.

“ What do you mean? I am radiant.”

“ You are a fool, Arthur. A wonderful fool.”

“ Wonderful! He called me wonderful. I may swoon.”

“ Who's the girly one now?”

“ Oh come on, it was always me. You may have that fine bone structure but I get a manicure every month and use pinterest.”

Merlin gapes.

“ A manicure? Really? How did your father not know?”

Arthur laughs.

“ He comes with me. Us Pendragons enjoy the finer things in life.”

“ I'm not fine.” Merlin says softly, suddenly looking worried. “ I mean it, I'm a mess. And I'm not rich or posh or anything.”

Arthur takes Merlin's face in his hands.

“ You are fine enough, Merlin. And I was joking. You must have realized what a slob I am by now.”

“ You are pretty slovenly. Is it rebellion?”

Arthur shrugs.

“ I think it's just laziness too be honest. My genes think I should have a manservant or something. Bet the last generation of Pendragon's had menservents. I'm moving down I nthe world, Merlin.”

“ I'd feel pretty bad for whoever had to wash your socks.”

“ You wash my socks.” Arthur points out.

“ I only do the laundry because the smell was taking over the whole apartment.”

Arthur laughs, victorious.

“ What do you think my endgame there was?”

Merlin shakes his head in mock despair. He wriggles free of his sleeping bag and unzips the door, letting crisp winter air into the small space. Arthur groans and throws and arm over his head.

“ Merlin...” He moans. “ Stay...”

Merlin laughs.

“ Believe it or not, I didn't come here to laze about in bed with me.”

“ But what could be more important?”

“ I came here to do writer things, Arthur.”

“ Pah.”

“ Did you just “Pah” my life long dream?”

“ I'm your life long dream.”

“ You are an insufferable pain in my backside.”

“ I'll be a pain in your backside. A good pain.”

Merlin opens his mouth and doesn't speak for a moment. Arthur briefly wonders if he's taken it too far. And then Merlin is pouncing on him and tickling him mercilessly.

“ Hey! Don't tickle me! I'm trying to seduce you.”

Merlin looks at him, lip curled in something like disgust.

“ I'll be a good pain in your backside? Just what every guy wants to hear.”

“ Only the gay ones.” Arthur points out. “ Well, and the bi ones too I guess I mean I don't know if it's what I want but you know if that's what you want I guess...” He trails off.

Merlin kisses him softly, briefly, and sits up.

“ You really are hopeless, Arthur Pendragon.” He says, fond and warm. Arthur beams up at him, to pleased to see Merlin smile to care about what an idiot he is making of himself.

“ So... are you really doing writer things?”

Merlin grins.

“ Writer things really just means messing about out here and thinking up the odd metaphor about the foreboding shadows of the trees and suchlike.”

Arthur peers out of the tent.

“ The tree trunks were brown and a bit scary if you didn't have someone to hold your hand?” He suggests.

“ Practically Shakespeare.” Merlin laughs.

“ See. I could write a novel. It'd be about zombies.”

Merlin groans.

“ All the worst ideas start out that way.”

“ Let's go for a walk.” Arthur suggests.

“ Better.” Merlin says and leaves the tent. Arthur lies on his back and closes his eyes for a moment. He can hear Merlin outside, crunching across old twigs and squelching through mud. He hopes he is making coffee. He can still smell Merlin on his skin, a hazy memory. Part of him wishes this could just be life, enjoying just breathing next to someone you love. It is as though he has been missing it his whole life without even knowing it. He had loved Gwen, he supposed, but that had been like Romeo and Rosaline – the pair of them drunk on the idea of love with no idea about the actual mechanisms. When the issues hit they crumbled. But with Merlin, they'd been working on the issues since the start. He already felt that they had both grown together, as though they improved one another. Leant on one another.

“ Oi, Arthur?” Merlin called. “ Get your lazy arse out here and help me with breakfast.”

Arthur grinned. True love.

 


	15. A deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur leave the forest behind and make a pact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a few days. I'm kind of overwhelmed with school/life stress. Teachers keep warning me about the impending future and ucas applications and such. My response to stress is to retreat to my bed and netflix. So updates will come as and when I can summon up some motivation :/ but the good news is I roughly know the outline for the rest of the fic so that should make writing a bit easier. Hope you enjoy this chapter, though it is a little angsty. Arthur has feelings to work out. :) Please let me know what you think - your comments really help motivate me to keep writing. :)

The next few days drift past in a haze of rain and woods and kisses. Arthur forgets that the rest of his life even exists sometimes. The little bubble of life he and Merlin have built has thick walls. He reads game of thrones and learns how to build fires and make Merlin moan and he thinks that this is what heaven could be like. But before long they are stood outside the car, looking back on the forest that they had sheltered in. The pungent smell of damp and body odour surrounds them and Arthur thinks that at least there will be a hot shower to welcome him home.

“ I'll miss it.” Merlin says.

“ I'll miss us, here.” Arthur whispers. It's different out here. Easier.

“ It'll be OK.” Merlin slips his hand into Arthur's. His hand curls around it automatically. They fit together now, like an old sweater or worn in boots. There is a tightness in his chest, a want for Merlin to be right.

“ You don't have to do anything.” Merlin adds.

Arthur shakes his head.

“ I do.” He knows it like he knows his own name. Other people can do what they want – there were people in school who studied art because they liked it, or history or whatever took their fancy. But for Arthur it was maths and languages. It had to be. His life was decided.

“ Why? And don't give me that crap about the family business.”

And that's it, isn't it? He thinks. The reasons behind all his decisions. When he had filled out his ucas form with five courses geared towards business it had been to make his father proud. To see him smile, nod his approval.

“ That's why though.” Arthur says, and it comes out a whisper. But here is the place for the conversation. Merlin and the trees listen without judgement and with quiet wisdom.

“ Arthur, you have to put yourself first sometimes.”

“ Like you do? Beating yourself up over something that isn't your fault?”

Merlin's eyes widen briefly. His hand pulls away from Arthur.

“ I'm sorry.” Arthur sighs, leaning back against the car. “ That was out of order.”

Merlin pulls Arthur close and kisses him, cupping his jaw with his hand. He leans his forehead against Arthur's.

“ You aren't happy there.” He says. “ I didn't know that before. But I've seen you here and you are... you. I like both versions of you, Arthur, but you seem to like this one more.”

Arthur swallows and pulls away, gazing up at the sky. Wispy clouds fly across the pale blue, as scattered as his thoughts.

“ My mother died when I was born.” He began. Merlin just waits. Arthur breathes for a few moments, trying to collect the words together. “ My father loved her. So much. Everyone says he was different with her. He always did his best but ever since I was little I felt like I had this debt to pay, I guess. I know it wasn't my fault. But sometimes knowing and believing are different things, you know? And I thought...” His breath catches. Merlin reaches out and takes his hands. Arthur looks down and realizes his palms are marked with red crescent moons. “ If I could be the son he wanted he'd be happier, maybe. Like I've spent my life trying to be more than myself to fill the gap my mother left.”

Merlin squeezes his hand.

“ And then there is Morgana. My sister, of sorts. She was always a nightmare – always in trouble. Rebellious. So I tried to compensate. I guess I forgot how to listen to my heart.”

“ Arthur...” Merlin begins.

“ I know it's all stupid.”

“ It isn't. It's very selfless, actually.” Merlin says. He kisses Arthur's forehead. The simplicity of the gesture almost makes Arthur cry. “ But you can't fix people. You can only help them fix themselves.”

Arthur sighs.

“ And sometimes you need to be selfish. You can give so much more to people if you are healthy yourself.”

Arthur nods. He exhales slowly, trying to shed the weight of years of misplaced guilt and duty.

“ How about a deal?” Merlin says.

Arthur looks at Merlin. He is chewing his lip.

“ A deal?”

“ You talk to your father and work on doing what you want to do. And I... I'll go back to therapy.”

Arthur looks at him.

“ I'm not doing it for you. Well, not just you. I think it's what I need. But maybe we can work on ourselves together, yeah?”

“ You are amazing, you know that?” Arthur says.

“ Thanks.” Merlin grins and holds out his hand. “ So we have a deal?”

“ We can give it a shot.” Arthur smiles back and shakes Merlin's hand. “ Shall we go home then?”

“ I think so. We're running out of crisps anyway. And you smell terrible.”

Arthur shakes his head and climbs into the car.

“ We'll come back here?” Arthur asks.

“ When we achieve our goals of self improvement. I'll order ice cream at that little parlour in the village.”

Arthur smiles.

“ Summer next time, I think.”

Merlin laughs. “ Summer. And enough socks.”

 


	16. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. Be honored, guys. I chose to write a new chapter for you all instead of watching game of thrones. I wanted it to be longer because I want to describe Merlin's room because in my head it is beautiful. But that will have to be another day. Anyway, let me know what you think. Especially about Merlin's bit. Which I may redraft and do a better job of some day. :)

When Merlin pushes open the door to their apartment, Arthur is struck by the smell of home. That familiar scent that you associate with kicking your shoes into a corner and collapsing in a heap on the couch. Before they went away, the apartment had just been an apartment. Merlin had been a friend. Now it was all definitive articles. The apartment. Their apartment. Their home. Merlin dumps the bags on the floor and heads to the kitchen.

“ We only have beans.” He calls, voice muffled by the cupboard door.

“ Pizza?” Arthur replies.

“ I think so.” Merlin returns. “ We need to dry the tent.”

Arthur groans. “ Now?”

“ Your room may smell of mould. I'd rather the rest of the apartment didn't.”

“ Stop insulting my hygiene.” Arthur moans, falling face first onto the couch and burying his head beneath a cushion.

“ Then fix it.” Merlin murmurs beside his ear. “ Budge up.” Arthur rolls onto his side, letting Merlin fit onto the sofa beside him. He kisses the shell of his ear. Merlin turns to face him.

“ I like this.” Arthur whispers.

“ Me too.” Merlin replies. There is watery sunlight filtering into the room. Arthur notes that the windows need cleaning. The exhaustion from the journey hits him all at once.

“ Can we eat later?” He asks. Merlin nods against his chest, already dozing off. How did they live before, so close to each other but not touching? If Merlin moved to his seat now it would be like a bit of him was torn away. And it would be cold. They should buy a throw for the couch. He smiles at how domestic it all is. Maybe one day they'll even have rubber gloves and clean mugs and fully stocked cupboards. Maybe.

 

…

 

It's late. The curtains need closing but Arthur doesn't want to move. He is tired and full of pizza and Merlin is sitting on his foot. Merlin is writing in a notebook. It's cover is soft fabric, faded and worn at the edges. Bits of paper poke out from between the pages and a frayed blue ribbon marks the pages. Arthur reaches for the jotter on the table and scrawls a note.

 

_What're you writing?_

 

Merlin pauses, balancing his book on his knee.

 

_All sorts. - M_

_?_

_I just write things. I'm writing about being away. Not like a story. Just memories, you know? - M_

_Would you ever let me read it?_

 

Merlin flushes and closes the book. Arthur sits back.

“ You don't have to.” He says. “ I just think your writing would be beautiful.”

Merlin shrugs.

“ It's not that I don't want to let you read it.” He says, hesitant. “ It's just a little embarrassing.”

“ Is it about me?” Arthur itches with curiosity. The way they speak in notes is so quiet and intimate that the idea of Merlin writing about him, even rawer, sends shivers down his spine. Of course, it could be terrible, he thinks. He grins, picking up the paper.

_Day two in camping hell:_

 

_Dear diary, please get rid of Arthur Pendragon. He is just too beautiful. I can't look at him anymore or I will explode._

 

Merlin shakes his head and pokes Arthur in the ribs. He squirms and almost falls of the sofa. Merlin crosses out what he wrote and scrawls something new.

 

_Day two in camping hell:_

 

_Dear diary, please get rid of Arthur Pendragon. His feet are just too smelly and he hogs the bed. I can't take it anymore. I may kill him._

 

Arthur laughs.

 

“ Charming. Though I seem to remember it was you who liked to sleep diagonally across the tent. I was just to chivalrous to move you.”

 

“ D'you actually want to read it?” Merlin asks. His sleeves are pulled down over his fists but he looks Arthur in the eye. He is shy, but not the crippling shyness of his mutism. Just ordinary vulnerability.

“ If you want me to.”

Merlin opens the book to the right page and hands it to Arthur. Then he looks away, chewing on his thumbnail. Arthur strokes the spine of the book. It is weighty with memories, filled with Merlin's stories. He has Merlin's soul in his hand and the trust makes it difficult to swallow all of a sudden. Merlin's small, flowing handwriting fills the pages, cramped into corners and littered with doodles and odd words. Arthur finds the first line and begins to read, his heart in his mouth.

 

_We are wrapped up in the rain. The fresh scent surrounds us, washing away the past. I could forget it all. Forget my stupid mouth and stupid brain and be a new Merlin. The world is crying but Arthur looks like he has seen it light up. I realize it's because of me and that sends my head spinning down, down into my heart until I am just feeling. His lips are fire, driving away the rain. And I am him and he is me and suddenly it is a we, a me and him. ArthurandMerlin. And I could conquer the goddamn world._

 

_It's not like the great romances. It's quiet. More alive. He could be a hero though. That is what I think as I watch him watch the flames. The shadows play across his jaw, square and chiselled. But he is more than that, all light and shadows and conflict. He looks like a storybook hero, but he is so much better than that. Flawed to perfection. My fingers itch then for paper, to scrawl down metaphors for his eyes and ramble about the broad set of his shoulders and soft curve of his mouth. But instead I say stupid words because I left my head at home. I could fall in love with you, I say. And he doesn't run and leave me on the ground. He kisses me until I'm sleepy and I think we both have wings._

 

_I didn't want to leave those woods. But that was because I didn't know what coming home felt like yet._

 

“ Hey, Merlin?” Arthur whispers into the silence. Merlin looks at him, cheeks pink. “ I think I'm falling in love with you.” He leans in and kisses him until they are both breathless. “ And give me a few days and I'll totally write a poem about you.”

 


	17. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Uther talk properly for the first time in awhile. Merlin lets Arthur into his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so bad at writing summaries. Well I hope you like this chapter. :)

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Arthur wakes up, stiff and uncomfortable. Merlin's elbows dig into his sides and his feet hang over the end of the sofa. They had fallen asleep tangled on the couch, watching some crappy western film that he couldn't remember the name of. They hadn't wanted to part but neither of them had got up the nerve to suggest moving to a bed.

Merlin yawns. Arthur prods him.

“ I need to shower. So badly,” he says. Merlin inhales and pulls a disgusted face. Arthur climbs over him and heads to the bathroom. Hot water is a great invention, he thinks, as he washes off several days grime. That is what he'd miss if he left civilization for a wild life. The problem with showers is that they are the perfect place to think. If the thoughts are snippets of dialogue from an epic screenplay you are writing on rainy Sundays, it's all fine and dandy. But, as Arthur washes sweat and mud and the odd bug from his hair, his thoughts stray inevitably to daddy issues and work. He groans. Louder than he thought.

“ Arthur! Don't cheat on me mentally!” he shouts.

“ I'm thinking about my father.” Arthur shouts back. He groans again. It must be a Monday.

“ That is really creepy. I'm making toast. Do you want jam or cheese?”

Merlin is his soul-mate.

  


…

  


“ I think I'll ring my dad,” Arthur says, brushing toast crumbs from his mouth. Merlin nods. He isn't sure what he's going to say yet, but the more he has thought about it, the more he sure he is that he can't go back to his office, suited up and smiling. It isn't him. He wants to help people, make a difference. Make people smile for a real reason. Not because they got a discount on some crappy laptop or something.

“ What will you say?” Merlin asks. Arthur starts cleaning up the breakfast things. There is bird perched outside, blinking at him. Before he knew Merlin, he didn't notice tiny things like that. It was just eat, sleep, work, repeat. But now it's like every moment holds something that fills him with wonder.

“ I don't know. I just... I want to do something with some meaning, you know?”

Merlin laughs.

“ I fix punctuation all day. Not really.”

“ You like your job though.”

“ Yes. I save the minds of readers everywhere from comma splices.”

Arthur shakes his head. Merlin's resting face seems to be a smirk sometimes.

“ Any progress on the therapy, then?”

Merlin shrugs, tearing at his toast.

“ We only got back yesterday.” he says.

“ Hey, you don't have to honour your end of the deal if it's too hard. Only if it's what you want.”

Merlin smiles.

“ I want to do things, Arthur. Things like say hi to people in the street and thank attractive people when they hold the door open for me.”

Arthur strides to the lounge door and holds it open, bowing in half. Merlin laughs, but gets up and walks through.

“ Thank you, kind sir.” He says. Arthur straightens.

“ Any time, young man.” he grins. Merlin presses him into the door and kisses the laugh from his lips. “ But please don't kiss anyone who shows you chivalry.”

Once breakfast is done, Merlin vanishes into his room to work. Arthur sits at the table and looks at his phone, trying to tie his fragmented thoughts into a coherent piece of dialogue. Right. Get on with it. He calls his fathers number. He should just be getting into work now. If he's quick, he might catch him before the calls start coming in. The dial tone stretches on, ringing for a lifetime. Arthur's foot taps on the kitchen floor impatiently, his fingers drumming a tattoo into the tabletop. And then the dialling stops.

“ Arthur?” Uther asks.

“ Can we meet?” Arthur says, a little abruptly.

“ Are you OK?” The words are hesitant, like the first steps of a baby animal. They wobble in the air.

“ I'm fine, father. I just think we should talk face to face.”

“ Of course. Lunch?”

“ Will there be suitors?” He means it as a joke but his tone is all wrong, stiff and unhappy. Uther sucks in a breath. “ Sorry. Sorry.” Arthur mutters, before his father can say anything.

“ No. Meet me at that little sandwich shop, near the office. At one.”

“ You are actually taking a lunch break?” Meetings stretch longer than dial tones.

“ This is important.” Uther says. “ I'll see you later, son.”

He doesn't call him son often.

  


Arthur spends the morning cleaning the apartment, even going so far as put a load of laundry on. Merlin emerges periodically for tea. The first time he mimes falling to the floor in shock when he sees Arthur sweeping the floor. Arthur gives him the finger. It's all very companionable. At twelve, he scrawls a note to Merlin and pushes it under his door.

  


_Gone to face the beast. See you later._

  


Noise pours out of the sandwich shop when he arrives; the scent of coffee, bread, and perfume filling his nostrils. Children chatter and mothers gossip whilst suited workers tap their feet as they wait. He squeezes through the throngs of people to a quiet corner. His father is there already, reading a news paper and texting simultaneously. In a lot of ways, Uther is very traditional, to the point of being old fashioned. But he has always embraced new technology.

Arthur slides into the seat opposite his father. Uther looks up.

“ Arthur.” he says.

“ Father.”

They pause.

“ You look well.” He says.

“ Somehow I got a tan in November. In Scotland.”

“ It's the pale skin,” Uther says. “ The slightest hint of sunlight and it turns. Your Mother was the same.” His eyes glaze over, the way they always do when he remembers. Arthur feels his chest tighten. Sometimes he misses his mother, this angel that he never knew.

“ I'm sorry I went silent.” Arthur begins. “ I just had to get away.”

A frown pinches Uther's brows together.

“ This guy, does he have anything to do with it?” Uther says the word guy with enough distaste to make Arthur bristle.

“ Merlin didn't do anything. He just helped me realize that I should spend my life doing something that makes me happy.”

“ And working for our company doesn't?”

“ I only did all this to make you proud.” Arthur says quietly. Uther just looks at him.

“ Of course I'm proud of you, Arthur. You're my son.” Arthur doesn't think he has ever heard Uther say he was proud of him.

“ You never told me that.” he says. He isn't sure if he wants to shout or cry. “ I always tried to be this perfect son. To be enough. And I worked and worked and I still just felt empty.”

Uther doesn't say anything for awhile. He fidgets with a napkin. Uther doesn't fidget. Arthur is reminded of a scene from To Kill a Mockingbird, where Atticus takes of his jacket and Scout is shocked. They are in unfamiliar territory now. Maybe it will be fine. And maybe there will be sharks.

“ I love you, Arthur. You are my only son and I want you to be happy.” Arthur nods. He can't speak around his feelings though.

“ But,” Uther continues. “ This is a lot, all at once. It's going to take work to fix this... rift.”

“ You aren't angry?”

Uther smiles, a small twitch of his lips.

“ You're young, Arthur. You've fallen in love and you want to follow your dreams, not mine. How could I hate you for that?”

Arthur shrugs.

“ What about the business?”

“ There isn't much I'd love more than you taking over. Except for you being happy. I know I'm terrible at showing it, clearly, but that is what is important. Plus, I'm sure Morgana would be only too pleased to step up.”

Arthur shudders at the thought of Morgana with that much money. She would be brilliant. But scary.

“ So we're cool then.”

“ Please don't use such sloppy language, son.” And there he was. Uther Pendragon was back. “ I want to meet this boy, by the way, to make sure he isn't leading you astray.”

For a brief moment, Arthur imagines turning up to the Pendragon house with Merlin on his arm. He pictures Merlin frowning at the assortment of cutlery and Merlin sprawled in his bed. Maybe one day.

“ He is shy.” Arthur says. “ Maybe one day.”

“ So, now that you have given up taking over a multimillion pound corporation, can we order lunch and discuss what exactly you are going to do with your life? Because I'll not be happy if you just intend to loaf around with this … boyfriend of yours.” Arthur chokes on air. The words sound so wrong coming from his father's mouth. He can tell that Uther is still not happy. He is sat stiffly and his mouth looks like it is struggling with the words. But the fact is he is willing to try, and that gives Arthur hope that things might work out. After all, family is never perfect.

  


When he gets back to the apartment, there are shopping bags all over the table. A cupboard door is open, a stack of tins on the side waiting to be put away. Arthur frowns. There is no sign of Merlin. Then he sees the note on the table.

  


_Very busy writing. Do not interrupt until I emerge for tea. - M_

  


Arthur grins. Merlin is endlessly amusing when he is absorbed in his work. The other day he emerged from his room with his trousers on backwards and one sock, grinning like he had just won the lottery. Arthur had asked if he was OK and he hand punched the air triumphantly. “ I killed him!” he proclaimed proudly. “ And it was perfect. I nearly cried.” Arthur had looked at him in alarm before Merlin clarified that his victim was fictional.

The downside to his room mates creative phases were that he stopped doing the housework. Arthur surveyed the chaos in the kitchen. It looked like Merlin had eaten rice and cheese for lunch. Arthur resolved to clean up and make sure Merlin ate an actual meal for dinner. There was a shout of joy when he was cleaning the sink. He knocked on Merlin's door, hoping the interruption would be forgiven.

Merlin opened the door and kissed Arthur full on the lips, almost lifting him up and spinning him around.

“ I did it!” he grinned.

“ Did what?” Arthur asked, placing his hands on Merlin's hips.

“ I finished my novel. The end. Fin. Well, except for rewriting and editing and everything. But I have a first draft!”

Arthur does spin Merlin round now, caught up in his infectious excitement.

“ Stop twirling round like and idiot and get in here.” Merlin grins, biting his lip. Arthur gasps.

“ You should finish novels more often,”he manages “ I quite like it.”

Merlin shuts the door behind him and pushes Arthur down onto his bed. Arthur is distracted for a moment by Merlin's body crushing into him but then he stops. He is in Merlin's room. His secret hideout. He sits up. Merlin groans.

“ Arthur. Now is not the time for contemplation.”

“ I'm not contemplating.” he says, gazing around the room.

“ That is your thinking face. Take it off.”

But Arthur has been transported back in time. Heavy curtains hang to the floor, tied back to let the watery winter light into the room. The scent of incense, candle wax and old books fills the air. Huge shelves line one wall entirely, stuffed with hundreds of books: Thick, dusty tomes with titles in latin and strange fonts; sleek, shiny novels with modern authors; bulky reference books on obscure topics – dragons, medicinal plants, paganism, dead languages, alchemy.  On the floor are piles of battered classics and well worn novels. There is a large desk with a laptop sitting on it, surrounded by notebooks and pens and loose paper. Strange sketches of mythical beasts take up what little wall space there is, though one wall is covered in bits of paper with random words on. Arthur assumes it is something to do with Merlin's mysterious novel. The room is lit by candles, sitting on every surface that isn't covered in paper, which is admittedly only a few. It is warm and soft. Arthur smiles up at Merlin, who is still frowning grumpily.

“ This room is you,” he whispers “ though now I am sure you are a secret wizard.”

Merlin laughs.

“ It's a mess.” He says.

“ Can I just live in here and read everything?” Arthur asks.

“ Only if you take your shirt off, right now.”

“ I guess reading could wait.” Arthur says slowly, as though he is thinking hard about the decision.

“ Good choice.” Merlin says, leaning down and kissing Arthur. Arthur thinks distantly that it is good he is lying down, else his knees would have given up by now. He slides Merlin's shirt over his head and Merlin sits up, straddling his waist. The candlelight makes shadows dance over his slim frame and Arthur's breath catches in his throat. Merlin's pupils are dilated so that his eyes are dark pools. Arthur could get lost in them. His lips are full, cheeks flushed, hair dishevelled.

“ You... are so damn beautiful.” he says. Merlin just laughs at him and kisses him until Arthur forgets how to use words and can compliment Merlin with only his mouth, kissing every inch of him until Merlin is boneless and sleepy beneath him.

“ I agree.” Merlin whispers, as Arthur wraps an arm around him.

“ hmm?”

“ I should definitely finish more novels.”

  



	18. Coffee Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur gets a new job. A third date is arranged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a few days. Writer's block and exhaustion are bitches. But I've tried. I'm not quite sure what is going on because I'm not sure it's normal for a fic to become a strange coffeeshop au halfway through but Arthur is happy and Merlin is happy as long as there are cookies. 
> 
> I'm not sure when the next update will be as I am going away soon and so I'll be travelling for a few days and then I'll be reunited with family I haven't seen in awhile. So I'll do my best to sneak away and write, but no promises. On the plus side, maybe the nice weather and food of france will serve as inspiration. 
> 
> Enjoy, and thank you all for bearing with me. :)

 

Arthur puts the stack of paper on the desk with a thump. Morgana pales slightly but otherwise doesn't react.

“ So this all needs dealing with by Friday,” he says. Morgana opens her mouth and then closes it again.

“ Is that going to be a problem?”

“ I didn't even study business!” She burst out, her composure failing for a moment. Then she rearranged her features into an impassive, tight lipped mask. She had studied psychology and advertising. She was terrifying.

“ Look. It's simple. Do what you are told, suck up to rich guys and exploit people. You are born for it.”

“ Arthur!”

“ OK maybe only the exploiting part. You'll get the rest.”

“ I can't believe Uther is OK with this,” She says, sitting on his desk and crossing her ankles.

“ He isn't. He is hoping that while training you to take over my job, I'll have some epiphany and return my name card to the door and discover some great love for overpriced tech.” Morgana shrugs.

“ I know he doesn't want it to be me. That was always pretty damn clear.” Her tone is bitter. The truth is, Morgana is the one who loves this kind of thing. Her head works in the right way and she is ruthless and organised. Arthur is, well, competent. It's a matter of gender. And parentage that wont cause a scandal. There isn't much Uther hates more than scandal.

“ He'd rather the business stayed in the family.”

“ And someone with no experience ran it?”

“ Father is like old leather boots. It'll be a long time before he's worn out. You've got years to find your feet.”

Morgana looks down at her feet, encased in severe black stilettos. Arthur doesn't think it will take years.

“ Well, Arthur, enjoy your life of … what is it you are going to do?”

“ I'm going back to uni,” he says. Morgana laughs.

“ Wasn't it bad enough the first time around?”

“ I'll be studying something I enjoy this time.”

“ You don't enjoy studying.”

“ hey, don't be too persuasive. It's your job on the line if I come back.”

Morgana sits at his desk and makes a shooing motion with her hands.

“ See you tomorrow, little sister.” Arthur says.

“ Don't get too brotherly. It makes me uncomfortable,” she snaps. Arthur grins. Their relationship has always been a strained one, but he does love winding her up.

 

…

 

That afternoon he wanders through town, having got off the bus early. There was an unpleasant smelling character sat beside him who breathed loudly and grunted at periodic intervals. The walk had seemed more appealing. He decides to go into the coffee shop that faces the train station, a few streets from their apartment it has been awhile since he has drunk coffee that wasn't instant. There is a sign on the door:

 

_Situations Vacant_

 

_Part time worker wanted. Enquire within._

 

What the hell, he thinks. He can't apply for another course for almost a year. And somehow, sitting around watching everything on Netflix seems like a recipe for weight gain and misery. There is a smiley guy at the counter, with longish dark hair and an easy grin that sits comfortably on his handsome face.

“ Hi. I'm here to ask about the job?” Arthur says.

“ Really?” The guy seems surprised. Arthur looks down and remembers his sharp suit and tie. He maybe doesn't look like the type to make lattes for people younger than him.

“ I'm having an existential crisis and a career change, OK. I do have a passion for coffee though.”

The guy chuckles and holds out his hand.

“ I'm Gwaine,” he says. The name rings a bell.

“ Gwaine? Do you know Merlin?” The guys eyes mist over and he gets a wistful smile on his face.

“ Ah, Merlin.”

Arthur decides that now might not be the best time to mention how familiar he is with Merlin's shirtless body.

“ It's a small world,” he says instead. Merlin had said that he worked with Gwaine though.

“ How do you know him?” Gwaine asks, leaning his elbows on the counter.

“ I, ah, live with him.” Arthur says.

“ Really? He's pretty quiet, huh?”

“ He's not so bad once you get to know him.”

Gwaine sighs.

“ I've been trying to do that for years. But I can't seem to get through.”

Arthur shrugs. The guy seems like he would be a relentless flirt. Not that Arthur hadn't flirted incessantly with Merlin, but that had been done via other means of communication.

“ He mentioned you. Said you worked with him.”

“ Well. I did. I got a job as a receptionist where he works. I was terrible at my job. So here I am.” he shrugs self depreciatingly.

“ So, the job? Do I need to apply or what?”

Gwaine chucks him an apron.

“ You're hired.”

Arthur looks at him. This is not how job applications work, he thinks. He has interviewed many people. Not that he had to apply for his previous job because, you know, father owns the buisness and all that.

“ I'm the manager.” Gwaine clarifies. “ Well, kind of. Mum owns the place.”

“ Thanks.” Arthur says, going behind the counter. Gwaine shows him how to work the till and machines and then vanishes into the back. Either the guy is very irresponsible or very trusting. But he has something to do for the afternoon and the shop is warm and smells amazing. Plus, there is cake. And cookies. Maybe he is still on a course for rapid weight gain.

 

…

 

When he arrives home that evening, the scent of coffee beans clings to him. He puts a paper bag on the table containing leftover cake. He likes this job already. Screw managing and a fancy career. Free cake and the grateful expression of people beginning the commute home from work is much more satisfying.

Merlin comes into the kitchen and hugs him. He recoils, nose wrinkled.

“ You reek of coffee, Arthur.”

“ Charming.”

“ Why? I don't like coffee.”

“ I got cake,” he holds out the bag. Merlin's face brightens.

“ I do like cake,”he says.

“ Anyway, I got a job. In that little coffee shop, you know the one with the cookies?”

“ A coffee shop? That is quite a jump down the career ladder.”

“ It's temporary. Until I can apply for uni again.”

“ If there is free cake, I'm not complaining.”

Arthur grins and leans in to kiss him. Merlin slides his hands beneath Arthur's shirt, brushing the skin of his hips with his thumbs.

“ So, how was your day?” Arthur says. Merlin groans.

“ This book I'm editing is driving me mad. I don't know why I agreed to take it on. Some people just wont take constructive criticism.”

“ Something tells me you weren't very polite about this criticism.” Arthur says.

“ I was polite the first time I told them they needed to use speech marks and a legible font for print. I was quite polite the second time. Now I am mad. You can't use that bloody curly handwriting font for a serious novel. She seemed normal at first, I swear. But it's just one thing after another and...”

Merlin trails off, or rather, Arthur kisses him until he is quiet.

“ That definitely helps,” he says softly, pulling Arthur over to the couch.

“ Wait. Tea. Please. I need a break from coffee.”

“ I'll make it.” Merlin says. Arthur sinks into the couch.

“ We could go out for dinner,” he suggests. “ And then there is this exhibition I saw a sign for...”

Merlin looks over at him and raises his eyebrows.

“ Is this an invitation to a second date?”

“ Camping was the second date,”Arthur reminds him.

“ Ooh. So it's the third date?” Merlin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“ I think that looses it's significance if you already live with and sleep with the person you are dating.”

“ I wish you'd make an honest man of me, Arthur. We're living in sin here.”

Arthur looks at him.

“ Are you suggesting I propose?” he asks.

Merlin laughs, nearly dropping the sugar.

“ You're face, Arthur.”

Arthur feels himself blush a little. His mind had not quite got that far ahead in his and Merlin's relationship.

“ I wish you wouldn't mess with me like this.”

“ I'm sorry, dear. It's just your traditions are so ingrained it is too tempting not to toy with you.”

“ You are terrible.”

“ But you'll still take me to dinner.”

Arthur grins.

“ Of course. But we aren't going to an exhibition. We're going to an action movie.”

Merlin groans.

“ Are you kidding me? Where is the romance in that?”

“ We can check out all the shirtless, sweaty guys.”

“ I haven't agreed to this. We'll discuss it over dinner.”

“ Or, we could come back here. And be shirtless and sweaty.”

“ Unappealing as you made that sounds, I'll take it.” He hands Arthur his tea and curls up beside him. “ I got in touch with a therapist today.” he said softly. Arthur took his hand.

“ I'm proud of you, Merlin,” he says. Merlin smiles.

“ I've not gotten anywhere yet.”

“ You will,” Arthur says. “ And hey, you can come order things from me.”

Merlin smiles and picks up a notebook, drawing a complicated diagram involving characters and chapter numbers. Arthur flicks on the TV.

 


	19. Learning the ropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur gets to grips with Gwaine, customers and latte art. Merlin visits him at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been an entire week. I had an awards ceremony and then I traveled for 3 days. But now my textbooks are 900 miles or so away and it's hot so hopefully I'll be feeling wonderfully creative. Though it is odd writing about winter when you can barely move from the heat. 
> 
> Someone recommended I invest in a beta ( I don't proofread because I am so lazy. Sorry for this typo riddled travesty.) and I thought I'd ask if any of you were interested in taking on the role as you are reading anyway - if you are, message me on tumblr ( ofboysandravens) and i'll give you an email or whatever. 
> 
> anyway, enjoy. :)

“ This isn't Coffee. It's a travesty,” Arthur says, surveying the assortment of syrups in front of him. Gwaine shakes his head.

“ You aren't one of those guys are you?” he asks.

“ What guys?”

Gwaine puts on a snobbish voice and sticks his nose in the air.

“ It's not proper coffee unless it's midnight black and so god-damn bitter it makes you choke.”

Arthur's mouth opens in outrage.

“ I do not sound like that.”

“ How do you take your coffee?” Gwaine asks. It is said as a challenge.

Arthur pauses.

“ Black. No sugar.”

“ Instant?”

Arthur looks horrified.

“ I knew it. Right, ground rule – don't judge customers for their choice of drink. Even if they ask for a coffee without the coffee. You please the customer because we need the money.”

Arthur bows dramatically.

“ I am here to serve.”

Gwaine laughs.

“ I get the feeling that isn't something you say very often.”

“ That was the first time, actually. Well, if you exclude role-”

“ Customer.” Gwaine warns. A young woman walks in and smiles as she orders a latte. Gwaine leans in close to Arthur. “ You have to put a heart or something on top.”

Arthur pales. Is he really up to art already? He isn't entirely sure how to work the machines yet. He gets to work and hopes for the best. The heart comes out lopsided and looks more like dented circle, but the girl smiles when she accepts it and wishes him a good morning. A positive start to the day. She sips the drink when she reaches the door. She stops and turns.

“ Your coffee is so much better than his,” she says, pointing in Gwaine's direction. Then she walks out. Arthur turns to Gwaine, who has an almost comical look of outrage stuck to his face.

“ You've been here like five minutes!” he exclaimed. “ How many lattes have you made?”

Arthur shrugs smugly.

“ Around seven.”

“ Your heart sucked though.” Gwaine said, finishing of the coffee he was making with an elaborate pattern. Arthur looked at it.

“ Not a bad effort.” He concedes. “ I'm terrible at art.”

“ I learnt off YouTube.” Gwaine says. Arthur makes a note to check that out later. He is determined to rise above Gwaine in both coffee making and decorating. He wonders what he should put on Merlin's coffee if he ever comes in.

After the morning rush, there is just a steady trickle of customers. Arthur passes the time in-between by cleaning and perusing the menu. He never knew there were so many different types of tea. The business man in him kicks in as he looks around.

“ hey, Gwaine?”

“ Yeah?” Gwaine looks over from where he is wiping down a table.

“ You could be making way more money in here, you know.”

“ Oh really? How? By sacking me and getting someone in who can actually make coffee?”

Arthur laughs.

“ No. Just your presentation, layout. Signs. The odd promotion, that kind of thing.”

Gwaine shrugs.

“ My mum isn't all that dedicated to coffee, to be honest. But if you want to change stuff I doubt she would object.”

Arthur nods. He can't help it. He quit his job but he figures you can't teach an old dog new tricks. And if he does something, he commits. He gives it his all. And if he is working in a coffee shop, it will be the best coffee shop in town by the time he leaves it.

“ I'll put a plan together.” he says. “ And design a loyalty scheme – you can't put a price on loyal customers. Especially when you are a small business.”

Gwaine continues wiping, though he waves his hand as if to say “ go ahead.” Arthur gets the feeling that his sudden enthusiasm for promoting the business goes unshared. But if Gwaine finds himself on the receiving end of a pay rise, maybe he will be a little more engaged.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. His heart leaps – Merlin. Probably.

 

 

 

_I may venture out for cookies. With a notebook for ordering. - M_

 

Arthur grins at the idea of Merlin dropping in on him whilst he is at work.

 

_I look forward to it. Though we only have chocolate chip or oatmeal today._

 

_Even bad cookies are good, Arthur. - M_

 

Smiling, Arthur returns to work. Merlin would eat any flavour of cookie. He was not a fussy eater, as Arthur had earlier observed with the cheese and rice incident. At around eleven, the door opens, announcing Merlin's arrival. The coffee shop is deserted – Tuesday mornings aren't the busiest of times. Merlin smiles when he sees Arthur, and Arthur has to clench his fists to stop his grin spilling rights across his face. He had thought that as time passed, the desire to kiss Merlin constantly would fade. But he was so very wrong. Right now his nose is red from the cold and there is snow freckling his hair. He slips his gloves off and tucks them in his coat pocket.

“ Merlin.” Arthur grins.

Merlin smiles and glances around the coffee shop.

“ It's a quiet morning.” Arthur says, stating the obvious.

“ Rather convenient.” Merlin says quietly.

“ What can I get you then, sir?” Arthur asks, employing his best customer service skills. Merlin smirks.

“ I can think of a lot of things. But I'll save those requests for later. For now, tea.”

Arthur shakes his head.

“ Don't say those kind of things. You'll make me lose my job.”

“ What? Why? What kind of boss do you have?”

“ A fine one, but I doubt she'll be happy if she finds us screwing on one of the tables.”

Merlin shakes his head.

“ Classy, Arthur.”

“ Sorry. You just look really, really good right now.”

“ My nose is red.”

“ It's cute,” Arthur says. “ Are you sure you want tea? Do you not want to see me show off my knowledge of these machines that froth milk and make steam?”

Merlin glances at the menu.

“ I could maybe deal with a mocha. Easy on the coffee though.”

“ Your word is my command.”

“ You are in one funny mood today, Arthur.” Merlin comments, leaning on the counter.

Arthur makes the drink, decorating it with a swirly M. It turns out pretty well.

“ I'm still working on the decoration thing,” he says. “ But soon I'll be doing portraits and everything.”

“ I'd rather have a hot drink,” Merlin says.

Arthur motions for Merlin to take a seat. He brings the drink over, along with two chocolate chip cookies. Merlin thanks him and then beams.

“ What?” Arthur asks.

“ I ordered something.”

“ I'm proud.”

“ I mean, there was only you here. But it's a first.”

That tightness in his chest that he sometimes gets when Merlin talks about his muteness returns and Arthur feels strangely happy sad for Merlin. He leans over the table and kisses Merlin softly, just a brush of lips.

“ You'll get there,” he whispers. Merlin nods and kisses him again. Arthur can taste cookie crumbs on his lips and he smiles. It's freezing outside and he is cocooned in the fragrant warmth of the coffee shop with Merlin kissing him. It's one of those rare perfect moments, the kind that you photograph in your mind and revisit over the years.

And the Gwaine comes in.

“ Oh...” he says. Merlin pulls away from Arthur, licking his lips nervously. “ Soo... is this why you never called my number?” He tries for joviality but it falls a little flat. Arthur feels like something is about to shatter. Merlin shoulders are hunched and he is shrinking into himself, smaller and smaller until he is buried deep beneath his skin. Arthur wants to reach out to reassure him. And Gwaine looks a little like a kicked puppy. Oh, the pain of unrequited love. Arthur does not envy the guy. Merlin sighs and pulls out his notepad. He scrawls down a note and pushes it across the table. It is addressed to Gwaine. Arthur passes it to him. Then Merlin writes a few more words and pushes them to Arthur.

 

_I have to go. Sorry. Xxx – M_

 

_Don't be. I'll deal with Gwaine. We'll try again and you'll get there. I promise. Soon you'll be ordering caramel machiatowhatsits from complete strangers._

 

_That sounds about fifty shades of horrific. - M_

 

_I'll see you later, Merlin. X_

 

Merlin pulls his gloves on and picks up his drink. He opens the door to the cruel winter morning and leaves a frosty silence behind him. Arthur turns to Gwaine. Gwaine shrugs.

“ No hard feelings, Man. Guess I'm just not the one for him.”

“ He isn't trying to be cold,” Arthur says. “ he just gets anxious.”

Gwaine holds up the note.

“ It's all in here. A very polite explanation.”

Arthur sighs, trying to sort out the not in his chest that comprises of worry for Merlin, the desire to defend him and also sympathy for his new-found friend.

“ Give him a chance. As a friend. It takes awhile to get through to him, but he is...” Arthur can't sum Merlin up in a sentence. It wouldn't do him justice.

Gwaine sits down.

“ You love him,” he says. “ I don't. I love an idea of him. I'm still really fucking jealous though.”

Arthur wonders if it is that obvious how much he cares. Probably.

“ Want to make me feel shit about my latte art again?”

Gwaine grins.

“ Of course.”

 


	20. hosting?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur consider hosting a dinner party. Drawing up a guest list proves difficult. Gwaine gets a date. It rains a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. The sun and a beta reader ( thank you, talking-to-the-zero) are doing my writing wonders. I hope you all enjoy this rather long chapter. ( side-note, i think I mentioned Merlin's age before and it may have been 26. Just ignore any inconsistencies.) ( side sidenote, does anyone know when either of their birthdays are?)

 

> “A dinner party?” Merlin says dubiously.
> 
> “It'll be fun.” Arthur says with slight overconfidence.
> 
> “We aren't old enough to host dinner parties.”
> 
> “We're twenty-five, Merlin.”
> 
> “But...it's so...middle aged.”
> 
> “Dinner parties are very sophisticated and we should have more of them. Maybe then you'll eat something that is socially acceptable.”
> 
> “I eat fine,” Merlin sulks, crossing his arms and glaring at the whorls in the wooden tabletop.
> 
> “Rice. And. Cheese.”
> 
> “THAT WAS ONE TIME, ARTHUR!”
> 
> Arthur shakes his head. There are some things you don't let go of.
> 
> Merlin sighs. “OK, but seriously, who would we invite?”
> 
> Arthur shrugs. He hadn't got that far yet.
> 
> “Because in case you hadn't noticed, I don't exactly speak to many people. In fact, the people we have in common that we know boil down to...Gwen and Gwaine. I can only talk to one of them. Oh, I guess there's Lancelot. But you know, he stole your girlfriend.”
> 
> “I'm over that. I ended up with you.”
> 
> “But  _Gwen_ , Arthur. She makes the best cookies.”
> 
> “I'll get you a recipe book for Christmas.”
> 
> “I am not your housewife.”
> 
> “House-husband?” Arthur says hopefully. Merlin looks at the chaos of the kitchen. The last few days have been busy, with Arthur simultaneously teaching Morgana how to do his job as well as mastering coffee-making. Not to mention that Merlin had a deadline. So the side is cluttered with pans that contain the remnants of cheesy pasta and pizza trays.
> 
> “I don't think my talents lie in the realm of domesticity.”
> 
> Sometimes they are pretty domestic: Merlin does the laundry and the grocery shopping, Arthur cooks and does the dishes. But neither of them have any great desire to don an apron full time, so they are resigned to a life of slight clutter. Ultimately it suits them.
> 
> “Well, we can invite Gwen,” Arthur says, back on the topic of hosting. “And Lancelot, I guess. And maybe Gwaine could come but I'll tell him to be quiet. He'll probably just gaze at you longingly anyway. You'll not even notice him.”
> 
> “I reckon that might be quite disconcerting.”
> 
> “No,” Arthur says.
> 
> “Why?”
> 
> “Cos you'll be gazing longingly at me.”
> 
> Merlin flicks a tea towel at him. “ I don't need to long for you. I've got you.”
> 
> “Oh, do you? Feeling possessive?”
> 
> Merlin just shakes his head and sips his tea, not rising to Arthur's bait. Arthur sighs and comes over to him, bending down to kiss him.
> 
> “I can't play hard to get with you,” he says, sitting down on the chair opposite.
> 
> “You aren't,” Merlin replies. “Invite Gwaine. Get him to bring a date or something. I'll be quiet, but I might be able to talk to you and Gwen, maybe Lancelot. As long as I have an excuse to escape to the kitchen, I think I might be able to do it.”
> 
> “Are you sure?” Arthur asks.
> 
> “I need to push myself out of my comfort zone. But I'll be in a familiar location and I can get away if need be, so I'll get by.”
> 
> Arthur nods. “Do you think I could add my sister into the mix? I told my father he wasn't meeting you yet, but if he doesn't get some information soon I reckon he'll turn up here in the morning asking you for a bloody resume or something.”
> 
> Merlin frowns.
> 
> “Maybe one stranger at a time? Unless you want Gwaine to date your sister...”
> 
> Arthur pales. “She would eat him alive. She doesn't strike me as his type.”
> 
> “That's cos you have the same type and she's your sister.”
> 
> “Fair point. Now, the bigger issue: what the hell do we know how to cook?”
> 
> “Pizza?”
> 
> “We can't invite people over for pizza.”
> 
> “Fine. Actual Italian?”
> 
> “That could work. I'll look for a recipe,” Arthur grins at Merlin. “On Pinterest.”
> 
> “Go to work, Arthur.”
> 
> “But I want to stay with you.”
> 
> “By all means, stay and watch me wrestle with the final edits of this bloody novel. But I'd advise the coffee shop.”
> 
> Arthur sighs and goes to get his shoes. He's not used to working a job that involves standing up for long periods of time and actually doing things. But his latte art is improving; he managed a fancy spiral the other day. And a leaf. Pinterest and YouTube are his best friends. He glances out the window. The sun has made a weak appearance.
> 
> “We should go for a walk or something later,” he says.
> 
> “A walk?” Merlin says, in the same dubious tone as he'd used at the dinner party.
> 
> Arthur pats his stomach, soft from eating cookies and avoiding the gym. He's never been good at working out in winter.
> 
> “I need some exercise. I'm getting flabby.”
> 
> “Well I don't mind.” Merlin said absently.
> 
> Arthur blushed. “I thought you just liked me for my muscles.”
> 
> “Fine. Where are we walking?”
> 
> “There's this old castle a way out of town – I think we can get a bus to near there. You can go up the tower. It's nice – you'd like it.”
> 
> “I can see you in a castle,” Merlin said, looking over at Arthur.
> 
> “As a king?”
> 
> “Nah. A cleaner. Or a stable boy.”
> 
> “Piss off. I'll see you later.”
> 
> Merlin blows him a kiss and heads into his room to shower. Arthur walks to work immersed in a fantasy in which Merlin is his manservant. But he realizes he'd be hopeless at it and he'd end up with a bed full of crumbs and he'd probably have to polish his own armour anyway.
> 
>  
> 
> …
> 
>  
> 
> The coffeeshop is already open when Arthur arrives. Gwaine is sliding a cake onto the stand. He licks the crumbs from his fingers and waves to Arthur cheerily.
> 
> “You're in a good mood.”
> 
> “This cake sells terribly but I freaking love it.” Gwaine grins. “ Dinner is sorted.”
> 
> “Why do you sell it, then?”
> 
> “So I can eat the leftovers.”
> 
> Arthur sighs despairingly. “It's no wonder you barely make a profit.”
> 
> “Free cake is all the profit I need, man.” Gwaine grins easily and hops over the counter. One day one of his legs is going to end up colliding with something that is either liquid or glass. And Arthur will have to clean it up.
> 
> “Merlin and I wanted to invite you to dinner," Arthur says. He realizes they haven't actually set a date yet.
> 
> Gwaine frowns. "No offence, but wont I be a major third wheel? Not to mention Merlin can't actually speak to me.”
> 
> “There'll be a few other people. You can invite someone if you want.”
> 
> “You don't know me all that well,” Gwaine says.
> 
> Arthur laughs. “Well I guess we will have to get to know you. We need to make some more friends.”
> 
> Gwaine shrugs. "I don't exactly have a busy social calendar, save for crashing the odd party.”
> 
> “Perfect. We'll let you know a date.”
> 
> Gwaine's face drops a little at Arthur's easy we. Arthur wonders what Merlin said to him but he doesn't ask. It seems a little intrusive.
> 
> The door opens and the girl from the other day walks in. She grins at Arthur and opens her mouth to order. Gwaine jumps in front of him brandishing a notepad. She frowns.
> 
> “I want the other guy. I already said your coffee sucks.”
> 
> “You must have got me on a bad day,” Gwaine says, his most charming smile on his face. Arthur notices that if it weren't for the fact that he was head over heels with Merlin, Gwaine's smile would be pretty damn dazzling. The girl looks unimpressed though.
> 
> “You've served me every day for weeks. It always sucks.”
> 
> “But you come back,” Gwaine points out. Arthur chuckles. He gets the feeling that Gwaine isn't rejected on a daily basis. It seems that after Merlin, he is determined to impress.
> 
> “It's for your abs," The girl says. Gwaine looks down at his stomach in confusion.
> 
> “I'm wearing an apron. You don't even know if I've got any.”
> 
> “Still better than your coffee.”
> 
> “Look, instead of objectifying me, why don't you give me your order? And if you don't like it, Arthur will make you another one at no extra cost.”
> 
> The girl shrugs and gives her order.
> 
> “Hi there, Arthur," she grins, wide and white toothed.
> 
> “Taken,” Arthur says, raising his hands in defence. The girl laughs.
> 
> “You aren't my type. Too blonde.”
> 
> “Each to their own.” Arthur replies, not taking offence.
> 
> “ I'm Mel.” The girl offers her hand. Arthur shakes it.
> 
> “Cake, Mel?” Arthur asks. “I believe it is - ” he peers at the handwritten label, “ - fig.”
> 
> “Sure.”
> 
> Arthur cuts a piece and hands it to her. She bites into it and groans, closing her eyes.
> 
> “That is...amazing.” She sighs.
> 
> Gwaine whirls around, a triumphant grin on his face.
> 
> “I made that!” he looked about to give himself a pat on the back. Mel frowned, conflicted for a second. But then she shrugged.
> 
> “Arthur can make the coffee. I'll eat your cake and stop insulting you.”
> 
> Gwaine looks like he actually doesn't mind the insults. He hands over the coffee and Mel sips it. She shakes her head.
> 
> “Not enough coffee, too much milk," she says, "and something else is wrong but I think it's a unique failure of your own making.”
> 
> Arthur makes another drink and Gwaine rings up her purchases on the till. She presses a napkin into Gwaine's hand before she leaves. He puts the change in the till with a pleased pink flush on his cheeks. Maybe things are looking up for him after all, Arthur thinks.
> 
>  
> 
> **
> 
> Merlin and Arthur get off the bus and step into the countryside. It's freezing, as is typical of a British winter. It's December now, and even attwo o' clock it almost seems like twilight. The sun gave up fighting the clouds and the day is grey. Arthur twines Merlin's fingers with his own and Merlin walks beside him so their arms are touching.
> 
> “It's this way.” Arthur says, pointing. “We go up this hill. It's kind of a trek.”
> 
> Merlin shrugs. "I don't mind.” he says. They set off. A fine drizzle begins, the kind that you can barely feel yet it manages to soak everything. Soon it gives way to an outright downpour.
> 
> “Why are we always out in the bloody rain?” Arthur grumbles.

> Merlin laughs. “Because we live in bloody England.”
> 
> “The sky hates me.”
> 
> “Stop whining. This was your idea.”
> 
> They walk quietly. The hill is steep and Arthur can feel his calves burning with the effort. He really must get to the gym more often. Maybe Merlin would join with him. Gwaine might be a better bet to be honest. He might want to tone those abs before Mel sees them.
> 
> The road narrows to a track, long grasses brushing against their legs and potholes threatening to trip them. Arthur's foot goes into a puddle up to his ankle and he shrieks in a most humiliating manner. Merlin almost falls into the puddle laughing.
> 
> “It's just water, Arthur,” he says. He looks down at his booted feet and a wicked grin crosses his face. Arthur leaps out the way just as Merlin jumps, sending a spray of muddy rainwater everywhere. He comes off worse but he doesn't seem bothered. Eventually the old walls of the castle come into view. A single tower stands fully intact, rising into the grey sky. It is perched on the side of a steep hill, peering over into a deep valley. Green trees carpet the ground far below. If it was sunny or a full moon, the castle would be bathed in a fairytale like atmosphere. Currently it cuts an eery figure on the dreary day.
> 
> “I love it here.” Arthur says, kicking some brambles out of their path. “My father brought me here a few times when I was younger. It used to be open as a tourist attraction for a little while, so the walls and everything were made safe. But it's been left to ruins now – I think the guy that kept it open died or something. I still come here sometimes though.”
> 
> “It is beautiful.” Merlin says, eyes scanning the crumbling building. It hasn't lost its dignity, even with age. It stands proud even as it falls.
> 
> “It's like the forest,” Arthur begins, not quite sure how to express his feelings. “It makes me feel timeless. Connected to history, you know? It probably sounds stupid.”
> 
> Merlin laughs. “I know what you mean. These kind of places always fill me with a strange longing, like I miss something, you know? Guess I was born in the wrong century.”
> 
> They walk through the arch at the front, the iron trellis drawn up. The walls envelop them. Arthur leads the way to a small door in one of the towers. The wood is intact and strong, though moss is slowly creeping up it. More brambles grow inside. Nature is slowly reclaiming the castle and Arthur knows one day it won't be safe anymore.
> 
> “When I was little, I wanted to be a knight," he says.

  


> Merlin smiles. "You'd look hot with a sword,” he says. “I wanted to be a wizard.”
> 
> “Eh... I'm not so keen on those pointy hats," Arthur grins. They begin climbing the stone steps. They are solid, and have stood the test of time for hundreds of years. Arthur doubts today will be the day they collapse. After going around through several levels, they emerge outside, blinking in the grey light. It is bright in comparison to the cool gloom of the castle's interior. Merlin immediately goes over to the edge and looks down. He flings his arms out to the sides and tips his head back, laughing.
> 
> Arthur joins him, cautiously looking down. The ground seems miles away – the tower wall drops away from them, meeting the green slope of the hill several meters below. The hill stands above a gash in the landscape and the trees in the bottom look like broccoli florets. They are high enough that it feels like they stand between the sky and the ground, and up and down lose any real meaning. It wouldn't matter which way you fell. Merlin turns to Arthur.
> 
> “Kiss me, Arthur. Kiss me on top of the whole freaking world.”
> 
> Arthur laughs and obliges, catching Merlin around the waist and leans against the wall, only his arm between Merlin and the open air behind his back. Merlin grips the back of his coat with one hand, the other hand twisted in his hair. Arthur's heart speeds up and he pulls away. Merlin's eyes are closed, his lips parted, cheeks flushed. He opens his eyes, a piercing blue against the grey of the sky.
> 
> “I love you.” Arthur whispers. He doesn't know if it's the height or the words that make his breath catch in his throat. Merlin kisses him again, softly now, lips silk on his own. He kisses him until Arthur feels him returning the words. That is more Merlin somehow. He speaks so well without sound.
> 
> “I love you too, Arthur,” he whispers. “I could shout it here,” he adds, mouth grazing over Arthur's jaw. “I'd do that. I'd shout it from the top of the world.”
> 
> Arthur laughs.
> 
> “All our firsts happen in the rain.” he says softly. Merlin leans his forehead against Arthur's.
> 
> “Then I thank England and her shitty weather,” he says softly. They lean on the wall, looking at the world spread out like a map beneath them. They could do this, Arthur thinks. Right now, all the silly troubles of work and talking and other people are meaningless. He could live for a moment in this crumbling castle with Merlin as his prince.  
  
---  
  
 


	21. Old friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin mention introducing Arthur to some old friends of his. Arthur is hurt that Merlin hasn't let him into the rest of his life yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took longer than planned to get this written - being on holiday, dodgy tech and writers block all played a role. Also, sorry for mild angst. I swear I'll write this dinner someday. I'm building up to it. I hate juggling more than two or three characters - someone always ends up stood by the side drinking a never ending martini and scratching their head or something.  
> Anyway I hope you like it.  
> :)

Arthur's eyes blink open. A crack at the edge of the curtain leaks sunlight across Merlin's face beside him. A smile spreads over Arthur's face. He contemplates getting up, but Merlin's arm is heavy across his chest and the bed is warm. It is a Saturday anyway and the pressing issues of life seem far away, save the unavoidable need to empty his bladder. But even that could wait awhile. He pulls the cover over himself; Merlin is the worst duvet hog Arthur has ever had the misfortune to sleep with. Admittedly, he hasn’t slept with that many people, but in his limited experience, Merlin wins first place. Right now he is spread across the bed, starfish style, the duvet twisted around his waist and pooled over his legs. Arthur's tugging wakes Merlin, who groans. The arm on his chest pounds against him angrily.  
“Oi,” Arthur groans. “Abuse.”  
“Sshh.” Merlin rolls over, his face smushed against Arthur's arm. “S'not morning yet.”  
Arthur closes his eyes but sleep is not in reach. He tries to get out of the bed without disturbing Merlin, but Merlin grabs him by the wrist.  
“You're warm,” he mumbles.  
“I have to pee,” Arthur says gently, removing the fingers.  
“Peeing is not sexy,” Merlin grumbles.  
“I apologise for my bodily functions,” Arthur says, pulling on a shirt. “I'll bring you tea to make up for it.”  
“Tea is no consolation for lack of morning sex,” Merlin moans, tugging the duvet over his head.  
“Well tea AND morning sex is not out with the realms of possibility,” Arthur says.  
“You ruined the mood with peeing. Bring me tea,” comes the muffled reply. Arthur sighs. Sometimes Merlin manages mornings fine. Sometimes he doesn't. Today he is downright impossible. Arthur stomps through to the kitchen, annoyed at the cold floor and the dishes in the sink and Merlin and the fact that the mention of peeing seems to be a turn off he can't come back from. He makes Merlin's tea carefully, despite his annoyance. No one could accuse him of not caring.  
Merlin takes the tea when Arthur returns, shifting up the bed until he is almost upright, propped up on an assortment of pillows including Arthur's own. Arthur doesn't comment, and rests against the bare headboard without complaint. When Merlin puts the cup down he leans in against Arthur and kisses his neck.  
“Sorry,” he murmurs.  
“It’s okay,” Arthur replies.  
“It isn't. I was mean.”  
Arthur shrugs.  
“I'm worried about tonight,” Merlin confesses in a small voice.  
Arthur shifts to look at him. “Why?”  
“I'm worried I'll freak,” he admits.  
“It will be OK if you do,” Arthur points out. “No one will mind.”  
“I will.”  
Arthur takes Merlin's face in his hands and kisses him gently. “Don't be so hard on yourself.”  
“Easier said than done.”  
They sit quietly and Arthur finishes his drink.  
“I'll introduce you to Gaius sometime,” Merlin said suddenly, “and Will.”  
Arthur blinks. “I don't know who either of those people are, but sure.”  
Merlin looks surprised. “Have I not mentioned them?”  
“You don't speak a whole lot about your past,” Arthur points out.  
“Gaius is like a father to me, I guess. He's pretty old. Runs a bookshop in a little town a way away from here. And Will's an old friend. He’s kind of an ass, but the he is the closest thing to a brother I ever had.”  
Arthur feels hurt spread through him at Merlin's words. That it has taken so long for Merlin to so much as mention anyone close to him. He knows Merlin, knows how funny he can be about people and new things, but it still stings. That niggling self-doubt that lives just under Arthur's skin wonders if some part of Merlin doesn't want his friends and family to meet Arthur. That he is ashamed of him for some reason.  
Merlin places a hand on his arm.  
“Hey, Arthur?” he asks, concern written on his furrowed eyebrows and heavy eyes. “Have I done something wrong?”  
Arthur shrugs. “I wish you'd told me about them sooner,” he says. The words come out quiet.  
Merlin hesitates for a second, and Arthur sees the decision being made before him: open up or pull away. He hopes for the former, but he knows Merlin, and watches Merlin draw himself inwards, defences going up.  
“I'm not mad,” Arthur says quickly.  
“I've not met your family,” Merlin points out.  
“That isn't fair. That's because you didn't want to, or you couldn't. Not because I hid them from you.”  
“I didn't hide them.”  
“You have never mentioned them. I thought you had no one,” Arthur whispered. “I worried about you, what would happen if we went to shit. I thought you would be alone.”  
Merlin's face turns angry, but when he speaks his voice is fragile the way it gets when doubt gnaws at him and he has to fight to keep speaking. It hurts Arthur that he is causing this.  
“Is that why you’re with me? Cos you’re worried I'll be some sad mute with no fucking friends if you leave? Because I can manage fine without you, Arthur. I did for twenty-five years.”  
Arthur's hands clutch the sheets to stop his nails digging into his palms. He doesn't know if he wants to shout at Merlin for being such a bloody idiot about things or if he wants to cry.  
“How could you think that, even for a second?” Arthur asks, voice nothing more than a breath.  
Merlin looks up and sighs. “I don't,” he says, relaxing a little. “I'm just screwed up, alright? And it doesn't matter how much you tell me I'm doing fine or how often you kiss me, I'll still hate myself for it. And you can't change that, Arthur. You help me, but you can't fix me.”  
“What has that got to do with your family, though?” Arthur asks.  
Merlin shrugs, gathering his thoughts. He chews his lip. “I don't know. I was nervous about introducing you until I was sure about you. After my last breakup, I was, well, a mess. I was worried they'd think you'd be like the last guy. And you meeting them, it's two different lives colliding, Arthur. My whole past and my present. And I really, really like the present.” His voice trails off.  
Arthur takes a breath, pushes past the hurt and tries to process Merlin’s words. He wasn't keen on Uther and Morgana meeting Merlin, mainly because Uther could be a huge dick and he was a snob about things like money and class, and also because Morgana was kind of a bitch. But he wasn't worried that his family wouldn't like Merlin. He was worried they would hurt him.  
“I think you forget sometimes,” Merlin begins, hesitant, “how hard all this is for me. For most of my life, it's just been me and a select few people. Letting someone new in is hard. I love you, but you’re still fitting into my world. And that is just the way it is – that's me. And I am so, so sorry if that hurts you.”  
Arthur nods, taking in Merlin's words. They make sense, in an abstract way. It's so different from the life he knows. In a lot of ways, their childhoods were similar in their isolation: him in a big, old, empty house with only his sister for consistent company. The rest had been a revolving mix of his father's business partners at dinner times, tutor after tutor, a rare visit from a cousin or other family member. Uther hadn't been very social since he was made a widower. And then there had been Merlin, passed from family to family. But where Merlin had pushed people away and shrunk into himself, Arthur had always reached for love and affection wherever he could find it, falling too hard, too fast, too fully. It was hard to get to Merlin but easy to stay with him once you knew him. Arthur had always felt he was the opposite.  
“It's okay,” Arthur says finally, and maybe it is, or maybe it will be. But Merlin had spoken honestly, and Arthur would not try and change him for the world. “Guess that was one of our first fights, huh?”  
“Nothing is broken,” Merlin says. “I always thought you'd be the kind of person to throw plates and shit.”  
“That was one time,” Arthur says.  
Merlin raises his eyebrows.  
“My nanny gave my sprouts!”

Merlin shakes his head. “Do you know how spoiled you sound?”  
Arthur laughs. “I was kidding.”  
“Sure. So, dinner? I guess we had better go shopping.”

Arthur flops back down on the bed. He hates grocery shopping. That was another thing he had never done as a kid. There were some things that made him indecisive; the big decisions in life were easy. It was the small ones that caused the problems. Cornflakes or rice crispies? Hell. Nutella or peanut butter? Nope. As for differentiating between brands of washing powder or toilet paper, it drove him nearly to madness. So he generally persuaded Merlin to do it.  
He turns, as usual, to Merlin, his most pitiful expression in place.  
Merlin shakes his head. “You're coming with me. I'm not carrying all your weird pasta.”  
Arthur protests, “It's not weird.”  
“I can't pronounce the name. It's weird. Plus, we still don't know what we’re cooking.”  
“Fine, fine,” Arthur shoves the covers off. “But I’m not getting the washing-up liquid, or the ice cream, or the crisps. You have to choose them.”  
“Of course, my love,” Merlin says, kissing him on the head. “We wouldn't want you to get worked up now would we?”  
Arthur sulks into the kitchen in search of something edible. This has been one of his least favourite mornings all month.


	22. A long awaited dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Merlin finally host their dinner party. Gwaine is a terrible guest with terrible timing. Arthur is a pretentious cook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been so long. I was travelling for several days. And then I was recovering. And then I wrote but because this chapter is so much longer than usual the editing process took a few days. Hopefully it is worth it and you all enjoy it. If anyone is still out there, please do let me know what you think. :)

The smell of frying onions and garlic fills the small kitchen, making Arthur's stomach rumble. They had split a packet of Oreos on the bus back from the store but in their dinner planning they had forgotten the lunch. Chocolate biscuits were wonderful but Arthur thinks he really ought to have had an entire packet if they were being eaten as a meal. He eats a mushroom cautiously. Nope. Absolutely not. Disgusting. He throws the offending vegetables into the pan so that his hunger doesn’t persuade him to eat another.

Merlin comes into the kitchen then, holding a baguette in confusion. “What am I meant to do with this?”

“Garlic bread,” Arthur says, chopping fresh basil.

“Arthur,” Merlin says gently, “I can't cook for shit.”

Arthur turns. Merlin looks apologetic.

“Chop garlic. Mix it with butter. Cut the bread – not the whole way through – and spread the butter in. Tinfoil. Oven.”

Merlin grins “Yes, chef.” Arthur rolls his eyes. The more time he spends with Merlin, the more inappropriate he gets. It is at once irritating and attractive.

“Tomatoes?” Arthur asks.

“Still in the bag,” Merlin is chewing on a garlic clove.

“Merlin!”

“What? S'nice,” he says, still chewing. A wicked grin passes over his face and he comes over to Arthur at the cooker, hooking his fingers through his belt.

“Do. Not. Kiss. Me,” Arthur warns. Merlin pouts. Arthur keeps stirring his sauce. Merlin kisses his neck and returns to his chopping board.

“You know, you really do look good when you cook,” he says, conversational. “Though the heat does make your hair a bit puffy.”

“Thanks,” Arthur says. He finds the tomatoes and crushes them to a pulp in the bowl. He could use tinned tomatoes but he has always preferred the taste of fresh ones – the delicate sweetness of them as opposed to the intensity of concentrated ready-made sauce. These were the best he could find – Tesco’s finest – but being December, good tomatoes are a rarity.

They cook quietly for a while. Merlin switches the stereo on and hums along to one of his obscure indie bands. Arthur smiles to himself. He hadn't heard Merlin sing until last week, when a song he obviously like came on TV. His voice was nice, really. A little rough but it was the kind of voice you could fall asleep to. Arthur refrained from joining in. Singing has never been a strong point of his.

The bread goes in the oven and the pasta slips into the water. He cleans the side and then pauses. The kitchen smells amazing, warm and homey. Merlin is laying the table now. Arthur watches him a moment, all soft around the edges. He is wearing a faded, frayed jumper that belonged to Arthur. He had adopted it for winter because the sleeves were long enough for his fingers to disappear into.

“How many places?” Merlin asked.

Arthur counts on his fingers – Gwen, Lancelot, Gwaine, Mel (not yet confirmed), Merlin and himself. “Six,” he says.

“Perfect. I was worried we would be short a place.” Merlin puts the last fork down and then comes back over to Arthur.

“I brushed my teeth,” he says. Arthur shakes his head and pulls him close, sliding his hand beneath the wool of the jumper, tracing patterns on Merlin's skin. Merlin leans into him, kissing him deeply. Arthur is taken aback by the intensity, but not unhappy. Merlin's hands wander, jaw, neck, shoulder, back, lower, lower, buttons.

“Merlin...” Arthur breathes, heart speeding up, body on fire.

“Ssshh. I'm making up for this morning,” he whispers, sliding down until he was on his knees, lips on Arthur’s stomach. Arthur leans against the sideboard, one hand bracing his body, one hand in Merlin's feather- soft hair. There is something unbearably erotic about something as mundane as a blow job in the kitchen. It is the domesticity of it, he thinks, the hum of the oven and the smell of food and the feel of Merlin against him.

“We should... fight... more often,” he manages weakly.

Merlin pauses for a moment, looking up. “Or cook more often.”

Arthur exhales, eyes fluttering shut. And then a serpentine hiss and a wet sizzling jolts them open.

“Shit! My pappardelle!”

Merlin groans and pulls away, lying down on the floor. “You and your weird fucking pasta!” he moans. “I told you to just get pasta bows.”

“They are called farfalle, actually,and they don't go with this kind of sauce.” Arthur says, removing the lid from the pan and turning down the heat. The water would evaporate soon enough.

“That doesn't help anything,” Merlin says. Arthur realizes his flies are still down. Merlin stands up and kisses him again, briefly now. Arthur deepens the kiss. He wants to continue where things left off at the pasta incident. Merlin is just getting into the kiss when the doorbell rings.

“Fucking guests,” Arthur growls, zipping his trousers.

“Later,” Merlin promises. Arthur hopes everyone hates his food and goes home quickly. He goes to get the door but Merlin steps in front of him.

“Let me,” he says. Arthur nods. Merlin breathes in and opens the door. Gwaine stands shivering on the other side, comically red nosed and grinning. Mel is behind him, holding a bottle of wine.

“Evening,” Merlin says quietly. Gwaine lights up.

“Good evening to you to, Merlin. And a wonderful – bloody freezing – evening it is.” He almost skips into the house, nodding to Arthur as he does so. Arthur smirks when he realizes that Gwaine has no idea where he is going. He opens the door to a cupboard and a hoover, a coat and three odd shoes fall out. He turns around, sheepish. Arthur gestures to the open door to the living room.

“Sorry about him,” Mel says, smiling. Arthur laughs.

“You haven't been with him long enough to have to apologise.”

“I'd apologise even if I didn't know him. You just feel embarrassed for him, you know?” She is grinning, mischievous and wicked. Arthur likes her immensely. Merlin holds his hand out to take her coat. She thanks him and Merlin goes to hang it up. Gwaine hadn't been wearing one, hence his dramatic shivering. Arthur steps aside and lets Mel in. She hands him the wine.

“I don't know a thing about wine,” she confesses, “but my father is something of a fanatic and he said this was a good one.”

Arthur looks at the label.

“It is,” he says. “My father barely drinks but he has a ridiculous amount of alcohol. This is one of the few bottles he actually opens.”

Mel smiles. She is pretty when she smiles. It is odd how some people can seem utterly ordinary until they smile, and then their whole being changes into something to marvel at. Mel is one of those people. Arthur hopes Gwaine sticks with her. She fits him.

Arthur closes the door and follows Mel back into the warmth of the living room. Gwaine is eating a breadstick and looking around the room. Arthur realizes there are paper notes all over the place. They still write them, when one of them is in a different room or out. Little greetings and requests – Arthur, stop leaving your socks on my chair – M. Goodnight – I got you the blanket from the bed. I didn't want to wake you. Your butt looks excellent in those jeans – M.  We are out of bread, did you finish the peanut butter again? I'm moving out. Arthur feels a blush spread over his cheeks as Gwaine reads the more obvious ones. He is smiling.

“You two are great together,” he says. “I could laugh at these all day.”

Arthur shakes his head. “You are quite a rude guest, my friend.”

Gwaine laughs, loud and cheerful. “I was never housetrained.”

Mel and Gwaine sit down on the couch and Arthur tries desperately not to remember the things he and Merlin have done on it. He isn't used to visitors. Merlin is in the kitchen again, checking the bread. Arthur does wonder if this is a wise idea, given the fact that Merlin once burnt boiled eggs, but there is another knock on the door. Gwen now – if they weren't the only other guests, he'd still have known. She never ever rings the doorbell, for some reason. Says she doesn't trust them. Arthur notes that he has ended up surrounding himself with a slightly eccentric bunch of people. He has chosen well.

Gwen hugs him when he opens the door. The last few months have been a bit hectic with him gradually leaving his father's company and the coffeeshop and his general quarter-life crisis. He hasn't seen Gwen as much as he should have.

“Sorry I've been so distant,” he says quietly into her ear. Gwen pulls away, dimples appearing as she smiles at him.

“You look well, Arthur. It's so good to see you being yourself. I'm proud of you.” Arthur feels a sudden lump in his throat and swallows it down. Lancelot comes in and they shake hands. He is alright really, Arthur supposes. Naturally he had hated him when Gwen was leaving him for Lancelot, but Merlin had helped him get past that. He was a nice guy and his love for Gwen was written all over his face. Arthur wondered if he ever looked at Merlin like that, like Merlin was the sun and the moon and the stars and maybe a really big bag of cheese puffs all rolled into one.

“It smells amazing in here,” Lancelot says as they go into the lounge. Arthur closes the door to the hall, shutting out the chilly air that had seeped in.

“Thank you,” Arthur said. “Drink?”

“I'll have one!” Gwaine piped up.

“I wasn't going to ask you. You'd eat everything in this house if we let you.”

Gwaine grins, mouth full of yet more breadsticks. Arthur didn't know they even had that many. Gwen goes into the kitchen to see Merlin – Arthur sees them hug out of the corner of his eye.

“Take a seat,” he says to Lancelot. He hopes people have the sense to steer clear of the kitchen and give Merlin a bit of space. He goes to get glasses and a corkscrew for Mel's wine.

“I think the pasta is done,” Merlin says when he comes in. Gwen takes the wine from his hand and opens it. She seems to know where everything is. It has been awhile since Arthur has hosted anything and longer since he had cooked, so he is grateful for the help. Gwen calls through to the living room, taking orders for drinks. Arthur drains the pasta and Merlin unwraps the garlic bread. They take the food to the table.

Naturally, Gwaine leaps up and sits down again. Everyone else follows suit. Gwen brings drinks through and they sit down. Merlin is beside him. Arthur takes his hand and squeezes it.

“OK?” he whispers. Merlin nods and smiles. He is quiet, but not in the way he sometimes is, all small and scared. He is just observing. He keeps hold of Arthur's hand whilst people get food, though. Arthur dishes theirs up one handedly. It's messy but he doesn't want to let go of Merlin.

“Is anyone religious?” Arthur asks. He and Merlin don't say grace or anything.

“I am, but not fanatically. I wouldn't make the rest of you pray,” Lancelot says, with his usual quiet politeness.

“For the plateful, let’s be grateful, as my bastard of a father used to say,” Gwaine says cheerily, reaching for the bread.

“Amen,” says Lancelot with a laugh. A quiet descends as people start to eat – that specific noisy silence of hunger being sated.

Mel groans, a blissful expression spreading over her face. “Arthur, this is amazing. I haven't eaten anything but supernoodles and Gwaine's fig cake this week. It's heaven.”

Gwaine elbows Mel. “What is wrong with my fig cake?”

Mel pats him on the shoulder. “Nothing. It is just very... ahem... good for the digestive system.”

Gwen and Lancelot look at Mel in surprise at her crudeness. Gwaine is smirking. Merlin lets out a laugh at the odd tension between the two couple. They have very different standards of manners. Arthur has spent far too long with people who have seven different implements to eat a chip and so he finds Gwaine and Mel's banter refreshing. They continue eating, chewing broken up with compliments to Arthur for cooking. Merlin thanks Arthur quietly. No one reacts and he seems to relax a little.

Halfway through the meal, a loud knock sounds at the door. The table falls silent. Arthur glances around – all six seats are full. There is another knock, impatient now. Dread trickles down Arthur's spine. Merlin glances at him. Arthur gets up.

“Who is it?” Merlin whispers.

Arthur shrugs. “I’ll go find out. But I am a little worried as everyone we know and like who lives in this vicinity is currently in this room. Which means it is probably a member of my family outside that door.”

Gwen pales. Lancelot looks worried. Mel and Gwaine are oblivious.

“There's plenty of food,” Mel points out. She swats Gwaine. “That is, if this APE stops eating for one bloody second.” Gwaine snatches a guilty hand back from the bread bowl.

“You've not met my family.”

There is another knock, a threat this time. Arthur sighs.

“I'm so sorry everyone.” He heads to the door. It'll be Morgana. He remembers the conversation now:

“Arthur, father wants you to attend dinner on Saturday.”

“I can't. We have guests over for dinner.”

“Really? What time?”

“Half sevenish. A small thing. But I have to be there for Merlin.”

“Shame,” Morgana says, tapping something into her phone and smiling a small threat.

He opens the door. His sister stands there, a frown on her porcelain face. She is wearing a dark green dress that probably costs more than their rent and shoes that could double up as murder weapons.

“Really Arthur, must you keep me waiting out here for so long? It's December,” she sweeps past him, dropping her bag and coat onto the sofa. She glances around the little living room with undisguised distaste. Not enough designer brands and too many coffee cups in sight for her liking.

“Evening, everyone. I hope my little brother hasn't poisoned you yet. He gave me salmonella once.”

“That wasn't me!” Arthur protested. “The cook made that sandwich. I just gave it to you.”

“Well, the cook was fired. Sadly Father forbade me from shooting the messenger on this occasion.”

Morgana looks around and sees there are no spare seats.

“Sit in my seat,” Arthur says, resigned. “I'm almost done anyway.”

“No, no,” Morgana says, with an over-the-top graciousness. “I've already eaten anyway. I'd hate to intrude. I'll just stand here.” She leans against the side board, a cat ready to pounce. Arthur sits down, feeling her eyes on the back of his neck. He wonders if she came of her own accord or if his father couldn't wait any longer to find out about Arthur's new lower-class life.

“Wine, Morgana?” Lancelot offers, ever the gentleman.

“Please,” she says. He pours the last of Mel's wine. Arthur breathes a sigh of relief that Mel has good taste. Morgana despises cheap alcohol and any wine that isn’t French. To be honest if she found him drinking anything of low quality she would tell Uther and it would be that that finally brought him down here. He would hate for Arthur's taste buds to be common.

He decides the best course of action is to leave Morgana to her own nefarious devices. The wine should occupy her for a few minutes at least. He resumes eating, though his food is almost cold by now. Merlin slides him a note.

Your sister is terrifying – M.

“I know,” Arthur whispers back. He holds up his hand. On his wrist are two crescent shapes scars, silver as the moon. “She pinched me when we were eight because I broke her Lego model. It bled for two hours. I nearly needed stitches.”

“Arthur. Really, must you bring up those childhood stories?” Morgana tuts. She shifts her position though, the only clue that she is embarrassed. It makes Arthur feel better, this reminder that she is human.

“My brother broke my arm falling out of a tree,” Gwen said. “He was not a small boy and he landed right on top of me. My father was furious.”

Gwaine gestures to his eye, where there is a small, jagged scar. “My brother quite literally poked me in the eye with a sharp stick. I still don't know if it was deliberate or not; I'm bigger than him now so he won’t say.” There is a murmur of laughter and the tension ebbs away. Merlin gets up and clears the plates and Arthur helps him, carrying empty bowls and pans through the kitchen. As they pile up he regrets never buying a dishwasher. Is it too late to go and get one now for this meal?

“Okay?” he asks Merlin, touching his elbow as he passes.

“I'm doing OK. People are being good about it,” he says. “I wish I could engage a bit more, but I'll get there. A few glasses of wine generally helps as well.”

Arthur kisses him, resting their foreheads together.

“You are doing amazing. Don't worry.”

Merlin nods.

“I mean it. You have come such a long way since I met you. And please, just pretend Morgana isn't here. I might poke her in the eye with a sharp stick.”

Merlin laughs.

“Oi! Lovebirds! Got any more wine?” Gwaine calls. Mel glares at him. “Please?” he adds. Arthur smirks. She has only known him a week and already Gwaine is completely at her mercy. Arthur takes another bottle from the cupboard. Gwaine begins telling some long, involved story of some prank he played at uni. Lancelot chimes in with the time he stole his teacher's shoes in primary school without her noticing. Arthur hopes Morgana doesn't decided to add her childhood antics to the mix. They were sure to be brilliant but also possibly evil and maybe illegal. He loves his sister but she has a wicked streak wider than any other aspect of her personality. He wonders what her mother must have been like, because Uther certainly didn't have the genius for some of her plans.

Gwen quietly recounts a story about how she and her friends convinced her entire village an old house was haunted by a murderous ghost. It involved copious amounts of ketchup and a sound system. It was a surprisingly brilliant story. Merlin quietly rejoins the group and conversation flows easily. The diversity of the group and the general laid back atmosphere lend themselves to storytelling and joking. Morgana doesn't speak a whole lot, but she doesn't cause as much trouble as he had thought she would. She probably feels a little outnumbered.

“Pudding?” Arthur asks, interrupting the conversation. There is a series of nods, though Lancelot declines, saying he has never had a sweet tooth.

“It's just ice cream. We can't bake to save our lives. The fact that that meal was edible is nothing short of a miracle.”

Merlin passes a note.

I can bake. - M

“Oh. Merlin can bake. He just didn't. So you can thank him for the lack of delicious homebakes.”

Merlin offers up a grin that is anything but apologetic. Somehow he manages to be funny by simple moving a few muscles.

The rest of the evening passes pleasantly. Gwen drinks too much and pukes in the sink. Morgana holds her hair and Arthur remembers when they were little and Gwen used to play with Morgana while her father worked on various things around their house. They had been good friends once. But Morgana got older and snobbier and Gwen didn't get richer. In the end it was Arthur who stuck by her.

With the exception of Gwen’s inability to hold her liquor, the evening passes in a pleasant blur of laughter and alcohol induced warmth. Merlin adds in a few words here and there as the night passes and when they see people out of the door he is smiling.

Morgana is the last to leave. Merlin leaves Arthur to speak to her alone.

“Are you satisfied now?” he asks. “I don't know what your goal is here, really, and I don't care. Judge me if you want, but I don't care about money and status and success like you. I just want to be happy. And he makes me happy, okay.” Arthur pauses. “He really, really makes me happy.”

Morgan looks at him, her normal sneer/glare/smirk softening into something more genuine. “I know. I can see,” she says. Arthur blinks at her.

“Arthur, it sucked growing up. We both know that. It was lonely, and hard – for you especially because father was so set on you being just like him – and we deserve happiness. And if for you that is a crummy apartment and Merlin, good for you.”

“And you?” Arthur asks. He may have only just started to feel like he was really living, but his sister had become so cold as they got older that he had almost begun to believe she didn't feel, that Uther's distant parenting had starved the heart out of her. A flicker of sadness passes over Morgana's face. She shrugs.

“Who knows about me, Arthur? Maybe I'll find what you have found one day. For now though, I'm going to get really, really rich.”

Arthur smiles. Morgana will always be Morgana.

“I hope you find it,” Arthur whispers.

“Goodbye, little brother.” Morgan waves a manicured hand and steps out into the night. She has called him that since she had a growth spurt and ended up taller than him. It has always been a sore point for Arthur. The snow falls and she is regal beneath the street lamp, sharp bone structure and rich clothes, chin held high. His sister is meant for leading in the way Uther wants;  she is ruthless, scheming. Arthur knows there is a leader in him as well, has always felt it. He just isn't the leader Pendragon Industries needs. He closes the door on his sister, returning to his warm cocoon as she sweeps through the iced streets.

“Arthur? Has she gone?” Merlin is washing up. It's good to hear his voice again, full volume.

“Yeah. She was surprisingly nice about us.”

“She isn't all bad,” Merlin says. Arthur thinks it is the writer in Merlin that lets him see so much of people. Or maybe it is a lifetime of watching.

“No. Still, I'd rather she didn't gatecrash dinner. Here, give me that teatowel. I'll dry.”

They clean the kitchen, enjoying the quiet that has returned to the house. The atmosphere is different, somehow, as though other people have left it feeling fuller, not in space but in feeling.

“We should do this again sometime,” Arthur says. Merlin nods.

“Maybe not everyone at once. I reckon I could take an active part in conversation if it was just one or two others.”

He puts the last dish on the draining board and dries his hands on Arthur's towel. Arthur takes his closeness as an opportunity, catching his bottom lip between his own.

“It's later now,” Arthur whispers. Merlin steers him towards his bedroom.

**“Indeed it is.”**


	23. The silence of loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad news wakes Arthur and Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slow updates at the moment. Life gets in the way. Also, I'm working with a beta and that means I can't upload as soon as I write. But I'd rather take more time and upload something of higher quality. 
> 
> I'm not gonna lie this is an angsty chapter.
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think. 
> 
> :)

A phone ringing somewhere in the apartment drags Arthur from sleep. He blinks in the darkened room, filled with shadows that turn foreboding . There is nothing like the ring of a phone in a silent, dark house to turn sleep into unease. Merlin sits up beside him. Light from a street-lamp turns his skin a sickly yellow colour.   
Arthur turns to him. “Is that your phone?”   
Merlin nods. “It's bad news,” he whispers. “People only ring me in an emergency.”   
“I guess you should get it, then.”   
Merlin climbs out of bed, shivering in the cool air. No matter how high they turn the heat, a few drafts always get into the apartment; the downsides of old buildings are many. Arthur follows him, throwing a blanket around his shoulders. They pad through to the living room where the phone is still ringing, unaware of their unease.   
“Do you want me to stay? I'll go if it is private.” Arthur says. He wraps the throw around Merlin's shoulders.   
“Stay. Please,” Merlin says, taking a deep breath. He picks up the phone and presses the answer button. Arthur can't make out anything that is being said, only the high, tinny voice of second-hand phone-calls. Merlin doesn't say a word, but his breathing is rapid and worried. Arthur considers reaching out to him, but Merlin doesn't always like physical contact when he is anxious. It can make things worse. So Arthur switches on the lights instead. They come on bright and yellow. There is always something odd about bright lights when you should be sleeping – they throw you out of nighttime in the most disorientating way. He flicks on the kettle and makes tea, figuring it probably won’t make anything worse. He is just putting milk in Merlin's when he comes into the kitchen. The phone is still in his hand. He chews on his nail, a newspaper headline of worry written across his face. Sitting down, he rests his chin in his hand.   
“It's Gaius,” he says in a tiny voice, like uttering the words too loud will make things worse somehow.   
Handing him the tea, Arthur sits down. “What happened?”   
Merlin shakes his head. “The doctor said it was a heart attack, I think. They don't know what caused it. But he has underlying health problems and. . . ” Merlin trails off. His hands shake; Arthur can see the ripples in the tea, a small storm reflecting Merlin's upset. “They don't think he has got long. If we go now, we might see him to say goodbye.”   
Arthur's heart falls into his stomach, an acidic feeling of sadness and anger pooling inside him. He wishes then that he could work miracles because he would do anything to wipe the grief from Merlin's eyes.   
“There isn't any public transport at this time. It's a Sunday,” Merlin says. Tears are welling now, Arthur can see the shine of them over the gray blue of his eyes.  
“I'll call Morgana. She'll bring her car over and we'll drive,” Arthur says without hesitation. He wants to know this man who Merlin cares for so much, if only for a moment. He is reminded of his own mother's passing. He feels like there has been something missing where she should be his whole life, but it is of a hole that was never filled, rather than something lost. He knows Merlin will be left with a gaping hole by the morning, not a neat, absent one but a raw, aching longing for the impossible.   
“Thank you,” Merlin whispers.   
“Get dressed, OK? Morgana drives like a maniac. She'll not take long.”   
Merlin leaves, shoulders hunched and tea forgotten.   
“Arthur?” Morgana sounds cold even when her voice is filled with sleep. “Is everything OK?”   
“I need you to drive your car - or any car - over here right now. A relative of Merlin's is very sick and we have to see them, okay?”   
“I'll be there in ten minutes,” Morgana says, alert already. A surge of gratitude spreads through him, not a feeling he associates with his sister very often. But when loss is imminent, you are more aware of what you have. She'll probably break the speed limit the entire journey there but that is nothing new. Morgana passed her driving test by seducing the instructor and it isn't something she is ashamed of.   
“Merlin? Morgana will be here soon. It will be okay. ” The words hang awkward in the air. It will be okay. Why is that what people always jump to? Even when it isn't okay, even when it is death, people like to placate one another. What Arthur really wants to say is it's shit and he knows it is shit and he'll do everything he can to help and that one day, in the far off, unforeseeable future, the hole will be contained and bearable. Merlin comes back into the living room with a bag in his hands. He holds jeans and a jumper out to Arthur.   
“Thanks,” Arthur says.   
“I'm listed as his next of kin,” Merlin says. “He doesn't have any living family that I know of, though he does have a lot of family that isn't family by blood, you know,” Merlin's voice falters. Arthur doesn't have anyone that close to him really. The way Merlin talks about Gaius is a world away from how he feels about Uther. Maybe because Gaius and Merlin were close by choice rather than birth.   
They sit side by side on the cold sofa and wait. The atmosphere is unbearable, tense and wrong in too many ways. He and Merlin don't sit like this. The centimetres between them feel to Arthur like an ocean he can't swim across and Merlin is drowning somewhere out in the middle. Arthur doesn't know how to reach him, how to help him. He has learnt so many of the facets of Merlin's heart –happy, angry, anxious, amused, hungry, horny – but the ripping grief of loss is a new one. Relief floods Arthur when a car pulls up outside and beeps the horn. He can't stay sat in this silence, the first one that has felt empty since they met.   
The drive is wordless. Silently they speed through the night, Merlin's worry punctuated only by him whispering directions to Arthur who then relayed them to Morgana. The roads are different at night – the street lamps shine only for them, amber streaks trailing behind them. Arthur takes to counting them for something to do. When they reach the hospital Morgana says she will take a cab home. She gives Arthur the keys. Arthur nods, understanding her leaving as not wanting to intrude. He thanks her.   
Merlin looks at him. Arthur looks back. Merlin grabs his hand, holds it so tight Arthur's palm is decorated with bloody half-moons.   
“I...” Merlin bows his head. “Can you ask for me? I...”   
Arthur kisses him, a kiss of reassurance, brief and warm. He can taste salt on Merlin's lips. He had been crying in the car, tears hidden by the flickering shadows.   
“I'm here, Merlin. For whatever you need.”   
“Thank you,” Merlin whispers.   
The garish hospital lights and smell of antiseptic assault Arthur's nostrils. It is quiet at this time of night; visitors don't generally choose three a.m. to wish their relatives a speedy recovery.   
“We are here to see Gaius?” Arthur says softly. The receptionist gives them a sad smile, obviously expecting them. She is running on coffee; Arthur can smell it beneath her perfume. His own circadian rhythm is begging him to crawl into a corner and sleep. “Thank you,” he says as she points them down a corridor.   
Arthur can feel Merlin's hand tremble in his. He squeezes harder to steady them. They stand outside the door and Merlin breathes in.   
“I don't want to see him sick,” he whispers. “It will change my last memories. I want to remember him as - as himself.”   
Arthur nods. “He’ll want to see you.”   
Merlin puts his hand on the door.   
“Do you want me to wait?”   
“Come in. He'd want to meet you.”   
Arthur nods. This isn't how he had envisioned meeting Merlin's family. Together they step into the little room. A nurse is sat by the bed. She smiles at them when they enter.   
“He is sleepy. But you can see him for a while.”   
She doesn't pull them aside to speak of his condition. When Arthur looks at the man in the bed he sees why. He has never seen a dying man before, but some human part of him recognizes that this body has been pushed to its limits. His breathing is laboured, his skin patterned with deep wrinkles, folds that speak of a life filled with experience and knowledge. Arthur notices deep laughter lines around his mouth, crinkles around his eyes. Instantly he trusts the man and is filled with a deep sorrow at not knowing him longer. Merlin makes his way to the bedside. His hands shake visibly now. He sniffs and then pulls himself together, acting as normal as he can.   
“Gaius?” he whispers. Gaius stirs slightly. His eyes open. There is still life in his eyes – they are the only bit of him that has any vitality left.   
“Merlin?” he croaks.   
“I came to visit you. I brought someone with me for you to meet.”   
Arthur kneels down beside Merlin.   
“This is Arthur. He lives with me. I love him very much.”   
Gaius looks at Arthur, eyes searching him. A smile creases his mouth up a little more.   
“Make an honest man of him, Arthur,” Gaius whispers, “and look after him.”   
“I will,” Arthur says, without thinking. Merlin glances at him sharply. Shit. Had he just gotten engaged?   
“Merlin, look after yourself. And publish your book.”   
“Gaius,” Merlin says, voice breaking. Arthur can see the denial creeping in. “It's going to be okay, alright? You'll be fine.”   
Gaius shakes his head. “It is fine, Merlin. It's fine now. This is life. I had a great one.”   
Merlin takes the old man's hands in his own, as though trying to channel life back into the dry, papery skin. Gaius smiles, serene. Arthur finds it admirable, the calm acceptance with which Gaius faces death. This man has lived. Arthur hopes to hear his stories one day.   
“I love you,” Merlin whispers.   
“I love you too, Merlin. You are the son I never had. And I'm very proud of you. But you don't need me anymore.”   
“I do,” Merlin sobs. Tears pour freely from his eyes now. They splash onto the floor. Arthur reaches out and dries his eyes. Merlin sniffs and manages a watery smile. He pushes the child down, the fear away.   
“Do you remember that time when I was ten?” he said. “And I stole your alarm so you wouldn't wake up? And I opened the bookshop for you and ran it until lunchtime.”   
Gaius laughs, a dry, tired chuckle. The last laugh.   
“You did a great job.”   
“I don't know why I could talk then. I think the books made me feel safe.”   
Gaius smiles and closes his eyes. “Thank you for coming,” he says. His breathing is harsh now, a struggle.   
“Goodbye, Gaius. Keep an eye out for me, wherever you are going.”   
“You'd better not turn up for a while.”   
“I'll try,” Merlin promises. He kisses the old man's forehead. Gaius breathes out one last breath, calm and peaceful. Merlin buries his face in Arthur's chest and Arthur holds him silently. Merlin doesn't cry loudly. Arthur can just feel the dampness of his tears and the shudders that shake his body. Arthur can feel himself crying, though he hardly knew the man. Gaius had a way of making you feel known, somehow.   
The nurse finds them like that when she returns.   
“He held on for you,” she says. Merlin looks up and nods. He looks back at Gaius once more. Goodbye forms silently on his lips. They leave the room and return to the car.   
“He has a cottage just outside town,” Merlin whispers. “I have a key. He wouldn't mind.”   
“Sure?” Arthur asks. His instincts are to flee from pain, generally. To hide from it. But Merlin nods.   
“I want to be close to him.”   
Arthur nods and drives. Merlin looks out the window and Arthur sees the anger in his expression. How humans hate their own mortality.


	24. Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur are caught between saying goodbye and moving on. Memories, new beginnings and surprise connections are involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so bad at summaries what. 
> 
> Sorry it's been so long. Again. Thanks to owlwithafringe for helping beta this week. ( check out her writing. She writes wonderful Merthur.)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. All sorts goes on. But there are some sentences I'm proud of, so.
> 
> As always, I love to hear what you think
> 
> :)

Merlin's grief is a tangible thing that fills the quiet cottage with a heavy sadness. Arthur spends the week amidst sadness and memories. The cottage is filled with them, reminiscent of Merlin's bedroom in the way it is so full of who lives there that it seems to breathe itself. 

Paper covers every surface with notes written in a scratchy cursive. Bottles line huge sets of shelves in the kitchen. Arthur spent one afternoon looking at the labels, trying to figure out if any of them were actually edible. They ranged from parsley to deadly nightshade. Once when he was cooking Merlin snatched the pan from him, shouting that "that was the poison pan."Merlin is sat at the table now, looking through a box of old photographs and sketches.  
“What did Gaius do? Besides the bookstore?”  
Merlin looked up. His eyes were faintly red, that precise shade that comes from frequent, unwanted tears. “He was a doctor of sorts, I suppose. He made natural remedies, pain medications, that kind of thing.”  
Arthur nods. That explains the bottles and strange pots and jars. He tries not to show his scepticism of Gaius' approach to medicine. His father has always been against anything “alternative”. Society really had its claws in him. But maybe there is some merit in it;after all, most medicine comes from plants at some stage.  
“What's all that?” he asks, gesturing to the scattered bits of paper.  
“Memories,” Merlin whispers. The pain in his voice tears at Arthur, right inside his heart. Maybe there was no such thing as soul mates, but some bit of him was in tune with Merlin and it felt an echo of his pain. Arthur shifts his chair around beside him.  
“Tell me?” he asks. Maybe talking about Gaius will help. It's what Arthur always wished for. His father never spoke about his Mother. Arthur had wanted to know everything about her – what her hair smelt like, what she dreamt of, whether she drank tea or coffee in the morning – but Uther always dodged any mention of her name. Maybe if he had spoken about her it would have let some of the pain out before it built up into the callus that was now his heart.  
Merlin slides over a photograph. It is of Gaius and a young boy, unmistakably Merlin. Arthur would recognise the ears anywhere. Gaius is leaning on a staff beside a gate. Merlin is stood on the top bar of the gate, arms held out, laughing. Arthur wonders who was behind the camera.  
“You look happy.”  
“I was. Gaius was the first person who ever made me feel safe. He made me feel like it was ok to be me. To be the way I was. He never tried to make me speak.”  
“I wish I could have known him better,” Arthur says, taking Merlin's hand. Merlin nods.  
“So do I.”

…

Later that night, they are curled in a twin bed. Merlin's old room is less full than his new one, but it is that same mess of careful clutter. They are curled together, legs and arms wrapped around one another due to the small bed and the freezing house. Stone walls and floors don't lend themselves to warmth.

“Thank you,” Merlin whispers, lips soft against Arthur's chest.

“What for?”

“Everything. Just being you. I love you.”

Arthur looks at the ceiling, bare wooden beams and peeling paint. He feels like he is starting to get all of Merlin now, his past and present, his grief and his joy, his humour and rage. The fuller the picture gets, the more in love Arthur is. Merlin is so very beautifully human.  
“You know, I take my promises seriously,” Arthur whispers into the dark. He could almost hear Merlin's frown. “Gaius told me to make an honest man out of you,” he continued.  
“Arthur!” Merlin yelps.  
“Marry me, maybe, someday?” Arthur asks. He could feel Merlin smile against his chest. What a wonderful thing he was.  
“Worst proposal ever,” he mutters. Arthur felt his cheeks flame.  
“I'll schedule a better one?”

“It was perfect,” Merlin laughs, pushing himself up on to an elbow to kiss Arthur.  
“Shame it isn't raining,” Arthur says. “We had a whole theme going.”  
Merlin suddenly leaps out of the bed and pulls open the curtains. Silver pours into the room. Merlin stands naked, an elegant figure bathed in the moon. He is so pale he almost glows. Arthur feels his breathe catch in his throat. Merlin turns to him, a smile cut into the shadow of his face.  
“It's snowing,” he says. Arthur smiles back, giddy somehow with the beauty of it all. He gets up and drops to one knee in front of Merlin. Merlin looks down at him and his expression is caughtbetween laughter and love.  
“Merlin Emrys, marry me? I'm serious this time. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I know you think marriage is just a shitty contract and I know you are laughing inside at this scene but you are beautiful and good and kind and I have a shit vocabulary but if I had a thesaurus I'd get some more words cos you deserve every single one of them. And I want to promise to care for you and stick with you and I want to promise it in front of the people we love because I want them all to know, ok? I want the whole damn world to know how much I love you because it's too big a feeling for me to hold inside of me,” he stops talking His face is burning.   
There is silence from Merlin and then he pulls Arthur to his feet and pushes him onto the bed, kissing him like he has been starved of his mouth. The warmth of Merlin's lips and skin contrast with the freezing air and Arthur can't think straight.   
When they are both lying together, their sweat cooling in the frigid air, he traces Merlin's jaw line with a finger.  
“Is that a yes then?”  
“Yes,” Merlin whispers against him. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” he punctuates each yes with kisses across his face and chest. Arthur marvels at how far they have come, the two of them. From strangers in a flat to people who know each other’s skin and breath and hearts. He feels his love for Merlin in all of him, as though he is no longer flesh but a feeling, pure and simple, in human form.

…

In place of Merlin's head on the pillow lies a scrap of paper. Arthur squints at it, eyes still sticky with sleep.

Arthur, I've gone for a walk. I needed to think for awhile.  
I need to ask you something and I don't have the words for it face to face. I want to write a eulogy for Gaius. I want everyone to know who he was to me. Can you read it at the funeral? Please? - M xxx

Arthur has a brief moment of panic, thinking that his proposal is the cause of Merlin's need to escape. But he realizes that the upcoming funeral is probably the cause of his melancholy. He lies back down, avoiding the cold spot on the bed where Merlin should be curled. He used to wake up alone every morning. Now he wonders how he ever managed it. There is something so wonderful about waking up to a face you love and a face that loves you.  
He gets up, peering under the bed for his clothes. The stone floors have no mercy if you dare to go sockless. Already he can feel frostbite creeping on. The snow had kept falling in the night and now the world is wrapped up, asleep in the blanket off it. December has arrived with style this year. Arthur wonders what their first Christmas will be like.  
Can he read out Merlin's farewell? Words that tell the world a story of a man Arthur barely knew? Is that right? Everyone there will be mourning and Arthur only hurts because Merlin hurts. But then, surely Merlin deserves to say goodbye? And if he can't speak it, why shouldn't it be spoken for him? 

Arthur sighs and sits at the table. There is nothing to eat. A loaf sits on the side, slowly gathering mould. Arthur hadn't been able to bring himself to eat the half finished loaf of a dead man. The point of whether Gaius would have minded was not relevant. The bread lying there seemed to sum it all up. It was fine, half eaten. And now it would stay half eaten forever, not because it was wasted but because the mouth that ate it was closed forever. That was the thing about death – the world goes on, as it must. But some things stop. Their shoes stop walking and their notebooks remain forever half filled and their bread half eaten. The small, material interruptions the only tangible reminder that there is a hole where there was once a person.

Arthur doesn't ever want to be a hole. He doesn't want to be like his mother was, a shadowy gap in a family ruined by her passing. He doesn't want to be like the countless others who die and get forgotten, their debris swept on by the great tide of life. Even though they all were loved and are still loved, he is terrified of the idea that one day he will be little more than a memory, maybe not even a fond one. It's a difficult fear to understand and it isn't a fear everyone has. He thinks, maybe, that if he was doing something he believed in, if he was living with every fibre of his being and loving with every breath in his body, he thinks that fear might fade. Because Gaius was not afraid. He had accepted death knowing that he had lived. Arthur knows he needs to live more. He puts his morose introspection away for another day and leaves the silent cottage with car keys and the cash he found in his pocket. Food was the first step.

The hum of Merlin's voice drifts from the kitchen window when he returns, a sad, haunting song. Arthur pauses outside the door, listening. Merlin sounds like his heart is pouring out of him and Arthur is surprised not to see his feelings painting the walls and floor when he goes in. Merlin looks over to him and waits.

“I'll read it,” Arthur says. “But I think we should photocopy the handwritten version. Because people can know your words that way. I fell in love with you without hearing your voice. Others will feel your goodbye the same.”

Merlin hugs him, clinging to him. Arthur holds him quietly. They stand there, a portrait of grief in the winter light.  
“Now, though, dinner. I believe we have an engagement to celebrate.”  
“Pizza?” Merlin asks, hope colouring his voice.  
“What else?”

Merlin laughs against his chest and Arthur breathes it in, both of them young and living, despite pain.Life can blink out so fast and he wants to always be able to live in the moments he has with Merlin. Feel them so intensely that every minute with him stretches to an hour, every day a year, a month a lifetime.

“Gaius would like this,” Merlin says. “He would have found it poetic, this cycle of life. Our future being born in the house he just left and all that.”

Arthur smiles and wonders if it was Gaius that gave Merlin the gift of books and words, if it was he who let Merlin into a world he felt shut out of.

“I'm not dreading the funeral,” Merlin says. “I know that sounds awful. People hate funerals. I hate people dying. But I want to see everyone there, have us all celebrate him and who he was. There will be as much love there as grief.”

“That makes sense, I think.”

“It's beautiful outside. Can we walk?”

Arthur kisses Merlin's head. “Of course.”

They crunch through the snow, footprints side by side. Merlin tells stories of when he lived here, stories of Will and mixing potions and reading in the window seat and that tree over there with the branch you can sit on. Arthur smiles, imagining Merlin discovering all of the world in a bookcase and a scrap of forest behind the house.

“He left me the cottage,” Merlin says suddenly. “And the bookshop. Said it seemed right. That I fit there.”

Arthur holds his hand.

“You don't have to do anything,” he says. Merlin nods.

“I know.”

“We could move here, if that is what you wanted.”

Merlin shrugs. “I'm not sure. I don't want to live surrounded by memories. It's nice now to feel like he is still around but I don't want to feel trapped by them though, you know?”

Arthur nods, though he doesn't. All he has ever wanted is memories.

“You don't have to keep it the same. He gave it to you. We could renovate – not change it totally - but we could do it at weekends and stuff.”

“You could draw me up a business plan for the bookshop?”

“To maximise profit I would suggest cutting down on the old books about badgers and rare plants, if you want my honest advice.”

Merlin smiles. “I always loved that bookshop. But I love fiction. And history.”

“Renovate that then. We can catalogue the old books, sell them online.”

Tears appear in Merlin's eyes. He sniffs. Arthur stops and takes a hold of his hands.

“Hey? Ssshhh. It's ok. We can think about this later, alright?”

“I just... feel like if we change stuff it gets rid of him.”

Arthur shakes his head. “No. You respect who he was and respect that you are different from that. He'd want you to love what you were doing. He told you to publish your book – that should prove that all he wants is for you to be happy and doing what you love.”

“I miss him. Already.”

“I know. It's ok.”

Merlin's lips are turning blue bruise coloured. Arthur suggests they head in, get a hot drink, read a book or something. Something normal to escape planning and grieving.

…

The paper is soft and worn between his fingers, from Merlin's folding and Arthur's nervous smoothing.Arthur looks down at the words and breathes in. He can do this. 

He looks out at the sea of people dressed in sadness. It is tangible, the feeling in the room. As though there is so much grief that it has grouped together into something almost solid, a dark shadow wrapped around each person. He looks to the back row. He and Merlin had been sat at the front for most of the service, though Merlin had looked as though he would like to slip into the cracks between the worn stone slabs rather than sit on the pew any longer. 

Arthur felt odd in a church. He hadn't been in one since he was a kid, obliged to be Uther. Though he wasn't terribly religious, there was something comforting about the age of the place. He always found that somehow human experience built up in old places had a way of making you feel less alone. He was not the first or last to stand here, not the first or last to grieve or love or worship here.

Merlin squeezes his shoulder. It's funny that he is the one giving Arthur courage. He clears his throat and begins reading the short passage of text.

“Gaius was a unique man. He had a way of seeing people, of understanding them without needing to ask. Maybe it was his age, or maybe it was all the books he read, but wisdom seemed to sit beside him through his life. I was dropped off at his house when I was nine years old. I hadn't spoken since I was five. He was the first person who didn't try and make me. Instead of trying to force me to speak his language, he learnt to speak mine. I can never thank him enough for making me feel valid, for making me feel ok and safe and secure for the first time in my memory. He taught me that being myself was enough, and that anyone who demanded I try to be more than that wasn't worth my time. I'd say he was like a father to me, but I never knew mine, and by all accounts he didn't do an excellent job, so that would be a disservice. Instead I'll say, or write, that Gaius was Gaius to me, and that was one of the best things anyone has ever been. The world won’t notice that he is gone, but we will. I will. I will always remember the man who gave me words.”

Arthur can feel a tear sliding down his cheek. He isn't the only one. The room is filled with tear stained faces and sniffles. Arthur folds the paper back into his pocket and looks up.

“I only knew Gaius for a few minutes, so maybe I shouldn't speak. But I wish I had known him for more. Merlin has told me stories of his life, shown me who he was, and I am truly sorry for your loss. I don't know if I believe in an afterlife or anything, but I just want to say, thank you Gaius, for everything you did. And thank you for looking after Merlin before I found him. I'll keep looking after him now.”

Merlin kisses his cheek and they return to their seats.

“Thank you,” Merlin whispers.

“You are welcome. It was an honour,” Arthur replies.

…

On the way out, Arthur feels a hand land on his shoulder.

“Arthur,” says the unmistakable voice of his father. Arthur stops. What the actual...

“Father?”

“Care to introduce us?” Uther gestures to Merlin, who is holding his hand.

“Um. Father, this is Merlin, my fiancé. Merlin, my beloved Father.” 

Uther chokes, his face flushing red. Arthur thumps him on the back. He can't help but relish the reaction.

“Fiancé? Arthur, I really didn't think you'd take your little rebellious phase to marital levels!”

“It's not a phase,” Arthur replies patiently.  
“All the Pendragons have had one. Your great grandfather went to the jungle for three years and got an elephant. This is quite normal. You'll come round.”

Arthur is mildly baffled but he just nods and smiles. Maybe when he is fifty and he and Merlin had children and grandchildren he'll admit defeat. Then again, his family have always been a stubborn bunch.

“Why are you here?” Arthur asks. “Did you know Gaius?”

Uther frowns at the topic change. He has always been controlling that way. But his face softens at the mention of Gaius.

“He helped with your Mother. He's an old friend. When the doctors said there was nothing to be done, he looked after her. Helped with the pain. He also helped your sister – she suffered from night terrors as a child.”

His brain wants to implode at this sudden flood of information. It is so rare to hear his mother mentioned, and now Morgana as well.

“So do you know Merlin?”

Uther nods at Merlin, who is looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“I do. He used to come with Gaius when he came to see Morgana. You two met, I think.”

“What?” Arthur is so overloaded with information and emotion that he feels like he might cry again. Did his entire family know Merlin before he did? Why is the world so small and connected when it feels so huge?

Uther shrugs, like it is no big deal.

“I thought it was a different Merlin when you mentioned him.”

“How many Merlin's do you know?”

Uther glances at his watch, “I'm terribly sorry, Arthur, but I have a meeting in half an hour. I'd best be off. Now that we are all introduced though, I shall expect you both to attend dinner on Sunday. Seven pm.”

“Bye.” Arthur manages. Uther hurries off. Merlin looks at him, Arthur's own bewilderment mirrored on his face. His Father has provided a brief reprise from grief.

“So. That's Uther. Who you knew.”

“We met,” Merlin says. “I can't believe I forgot. Although Gaius did drag me round all kinds of houses. Yours was the biggest. I think I hid in the garden until we left.”

Arthur tries to remember Merlin, but of course they wouldn't have spoken. He has a vague recollection of blue eyes and dark hair and a mischievous expression that may have turned up in a few of his confused, teenage dreams.

“This is too weird. Home?”

“Home,” Merlin agrees. “Can we get out of the dinner with your father?” 

“I'll think of something,” Arthur promises.


	25. An intermediate update - or, a tiny scene with Gwaine and Mel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mel made a comment about Gwaine abs. Gwaine wouldn't let her touch him till he'd worked out enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK this isn't part of the story and I know it isn't but I've got real writers block at the moment and I'm kind of down cos I have a lot of decisions to make so I'm not writing much. I do realize I don't really need to apologise cos I mean I do this for free and whatever but I want to update you guys on the progress or lack thereof. Hopefully I will write the next chapter tomorrow and then send it of to be betaed but we shall see. Anyway, have a snippet of Mel and Gwaine, cos they are an entertaining pair. And sorry for the slowness. It'll be done one day, I swear.

"So, can I kiss you yet?"  
Gwaine shakes his head. Mel sighs.  
"I've been dating you for three weeks!"  
"I'm waiting till marriage."  
"Is this about your abs? It's about the abs, isn't it?"  
Gwaine blushes slightly and shrugs. "I've been going to the gym everyday! I'm almost toned!"  
"I don't care about your abs. It was a joke."  
"Well," Gwaine sniffs. "You're gonna get abs, whether you like them or not."  
"I'd rather get laid!" Mel exclaims, frowning into her coffee cup. Gwaine splutters. Mel looks up. "What's wrong with you?"  
"I... You're amazing."  
"Yes. Thank you. Remind me what I'm doing here again?"  
Gwaine grins. "I don't know. Let's go."  
Mel smiles happily. "Fuck the ab's?"  
"No," Gwaine smirks, smug written all over him. "Fuck me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just found this in drafts and who doesn't want to read about Gwaine and Mel? (Well possibly a lot of you. I hate oc's in fics.)


	26. Two steps forward, one step back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur return home. Merlin has some difficulty with a client, Arthur has some difficulty with a taxi driver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. Exam results and a mild (kidding major) existential crisis took over my life. But, good news, I've written the next chapter already so that will be up before the end of the week.   
> Anyway there's some mild angst here but I swear the next chapter is pure silliness to make up for it, so stick with me. I think we are coming to the end of this journey - a few more chapters, but I though I could chronicle the entirety of their life, I wont. Maybe a few epilogues of the future though, if you like? (I want to write the wedding. It will be so cute.)   
> If you are still reading, let me know what you think of this chapter. :)

It is odd to be back in their apartment after spending the week in Gaius' house. Arthur had begun to get used to the old, herby smells and Merlin's tiny wooden bed. He finds himself missing the quiet of the cottage. It was just far enough outside of town that they could be in the middle of nowhere - isolated enough for quiet. The apartment is cold and Arthur switches all the lights on when they arrive, trying to make it feel homely again. They are different now though, in how they fit together. It will take a bit of time for the apartment to fit again.   
"Is it good to be home?" Merlin asks, flicking the kettle on.   
Arthur shrugs, "You're home now."  
A small smile flickers across Merlin's face. “So, are you gonna buy me a ring?"   
"Obviously."   
Merlin chuckles and pours water into two cups. The clink of the spoon makes Arthur feel better somehow.   
"So, this dinner with your father?"   
"Ugh. He is relentless. He texted me three times today. Asking what you didn't eat. I can't work out if it was so he could have it made and watch you squirm or if he was actually making an effort."   
"I was going to say," Merlin says, with a pause, "If you can get him to postpone for a few more weeks, I may actually be able to have a conversation with him. Therapy has been going quite well, and I think I've made a lot of progress."   
Arthur hugs him. "Thank you. You don't have to try for my father though. He is a right bitch."   
"Arthur!"   
"Sorry. It's true though. He is a literal teenage girl."   
"What?"   
"Look, I know he wears a nice suit and has that slightly evil glare, but underneath he is just a huge drama queen. Once I forgot his birthday and he didn't speak to me for a week."  
Merlin smirks and slurps his tea at the same time. It made for a surprisingly amusing image.   
"I have to go to the coffeeshop tomorrow, before Gwaine fires me."   
"I have a meeting with a client tomorrow," Merlin says. He sounds nervous. "Face to face. It's the first time I've done that."   
"How do you normally do it?"   
"Email. Authors are a reclusive bunch."  
"That is such a stereotype."  
"If the shoe fits... Well, not all of them. But I choose the ones who don't go out. They get me."   
Arthur shakes his head. He can’t imagine never going out or speaking to people - it would drive him mad. But then, if he spends too much time alone he ends up thinking things like, "If I'm 70% water, am I really a liquid and not a human?" or some other equally weird thought trying to pass as philosophical. He isn’t cut out for it. Merlin however, can be alone for hours. Now that Arthur knows him, he knows that wasn't always by choice. But even now they speak, Merlin still has days where he barely opens his mouth, so used to being alone with his thoughts that it has become a default.   
"That's good then. Are you nervous?"   
"Yes. But equally, they will be nervous cos I'm gonna tell them all the things that suck about their book."   
Arthur laughs. Sometimes, Merlin has this snark that just takes him by surprise in the most wonderful way.   
"I've been thinking," Merlin starts.   
"About?"   
"I'm gonna contact some publishers about my book. It'll probably never go anywhere, but I think I owe it to Gaius to try. And, I'd really like to keep the bookshop open. I understand if you don't want to move or anything. But I'd like to discuss it."   
Arthur blinks. "Merlin, you are full of surprises today."   
"In a bad way?"   
"No. In a good way. You seem focused, like you are getting to where you want to be."   
Merlin pauses for a moment, sipping his tea. "I think I am, slowly."   
"Well, I wouldn't say I was settled here. I mean, I'm a graduate working in a coffeeshop. It's a nice coffeeshop, but still."  
"Are you still thinking about going back to uni? Because there is a university in the town, quite a good one."   
"Maybe. I'm not sure what I want to do yet. I thought about psychology,become a therapist, maybe, or something." Arthur feels a blush spread across his skin as he says the words. He hasn’t thought about it that much, more of a fleeting idea inspired by the realization that he wants to help people and partly a result of Merlin and his struggles.  
Merlin nods, thoughtful. “I think you could be good at it. I mean, you'd have to remove clotpole, asshat, cabbage head and multiple other profanities from your vocabulary, and you'd have to work on not admiring your reflection in every shiny surface, but aside from that I think you'd be great."  
"That," Arthur began, "was the worst way of complimenting me."  
Merlin smirks. "It's for your own good. Your ego barely fits through the door."  
"Merlin!"  
"What? I love you anyway, clotpole."  
Arthur wonders why that is a sentence that makes the blood rush to all the wrong parts of his body.

 

...

The next day, Arthur is part way through serving a very pregnant, very angry woman when his phone buzzes. His heart immediately skips a beat. Merlin is the only person likely to text him during the day; all his other friends/relatives worked nine-till-five jobs. Unless it was a crisis. He finishes pouring the woman's coffee and waits until she heaves her overloaded form out of the shop before checking his messages.

Help.

That is all the message says, plus an address. By the postcode, Arthur figures it is somewhere in town. Fear for Merlin spreads through his body, ice water down his spine. Sweat prickles underneath his arms and makes his hands clammy.

“Gwaine?” he calls. Gwaine's head appears from the back room, somewhat rumpled. Arthur has a suspicion Mel is in there as well. Gross.

“Yes?”

“I have to go.”

“Right now?”

“It's Merlin.”

“OK,” Gwaine says. Despite his rejuvenated romantic life, Arthur suspects Gwaine will always have a soft spot for Merlin. Arthur is personally of the opinion that if the world knew Merlin better, the whole planet would have soft spot for him. Idiotic as he could be, he really is endearing.

Arthur takes off his apron and grabs his jacket, dialing a taxi with his other hand. He waits impatiently on the pavement outside the coffeeshop, every second stretching out and out until he feels like time is going to snap and slap him in the face with some cruel fact about Merlin's demise. As it always does in the face of unknown bad news, Arthur's mind jumps to every worst case scenario. Car accidents, bank robberies, gangs, terrorist attacks, psychopathic receptionists, pirates, dragons. Maybe not the latter two. Or three. Or four. Okay, so most of those things probably haven’t happened, Arthur reasons. But Merlin could be hurt, or scared, or stuck somewhere.

A taxi pulls up and an old man peers out the window.

“Pendragon?” he asks. Arthur yanks the door open and hops in, rattling off the address.

“OK young man. Calm down. Seatbelt on?”

“YES!” Arthur growls, though it turns out to be more of a frantic yell. The driver checks both of his mirrors carefully before pulling out into the road oh so very, very slowly. They begin to crawl along through the town.

“So, where are you going today?” the old man says, smiling into the mirror. Arthur takes a deep breath. If possible, the man slows down even more when he speaks. Did no one tell him it was actually dangerous to drive below the speed limit?

“Look,” Arthur begins, trying to keep his tone polite. “My fiancé is in trouble. I need to get to this address, quickly. So if you could drive any faster.”

“Ooh, well, we won’t be any help if we end up in A and E on those stretcher things. I've seen how it goes down on Casualty. Who is your young woman then?”

“Young man,” Arthur grits out. Casualty. Bloody hell. Arthur wasn't normally so aggressive when telling people Merlin's gender, but right then, when he was worried and fraught, he did not give a shit if the world knew he was sleeping with another man. It was Merlin – what could ever be wrong about that?

“Oh. Well,” the old man says, looking surprised. “You don't look the type.”

“Excuse me!” Arthur says. “Will you stop paying so much attention to daft stereotypes and drive me to this address, please? It's important.”

The man sniffs, but he speeds up. Part of Arthur had thought he might stop and kick him out of the car. But then, Arthur had already remembered his number plate and he was pretty sure you could file a lawsuit for that kind of thing. It feels like an eternity later when they pull up outside a small coffeeshop. Not a Starbucks, a little independent place, not dissimilar to where Arthur works. Merlin's meeting with his client. Of course.

Arthur jumps out, shoving thirty quid into the driver’s hand. He didn't deserve the tip but Arthur can’t be bothered to wait for change, not when he is this worried. He bursts through the door and looks around, trying to figure out where Merlin is.

Where are you? He texts. The reply is instant.

Bathroom.

Arthur sees the door at the back of the shop and heads towards it. He opens it to find a small room with two stalls. A woman peers in the mirror, touching up her lipstick. Arthur knocks in the locked cubicle.

“Merlin?”

There is a cough in reply.

“Excuse me,” Arthur says to the woman, in his best conversing-with-the-public voice. She turns and looks him up and down, a smile on her newly-red lips.

“Yes?”

“Could you give us a moment? It’s a family crisis.” Well, it isn’t really a lie. Merlin is family.

“Oh. Of course.” The woman leaves. Arthur locks the outside door, grateful for badly-designed bathrooms for the first time in his life.

“Merlin? It's just us.”

The lock slides across and the door opens. Merlin is sat on the floor, toilet paper stuck to his shoe. He is shaking, breath violent. His face is flushed and panicked. Arthur bends down and puts his hands on Merlin's shoulders.

“Merlin? I'm here now. You're okay. Breathe.”

Merlin breathes in, the kind of juddery, shaky breath that comes with hysteria. His hands are clenched. Arthur peels his fingers away, heart breaking at the bloody crescents. The damage is done out of anger at himself, Arthur knows, not out of fear.

“Hey. Don't do that. Don't hurt yourself.”

“I...” Merlin tries to speak, but the words won’t come. Arthur can see the panic still in his eyes. From the event or from not being able to talk now, Arthur doesn't know. But he hates it when Merlin is trapped like this.

“It's okay. Wait until you've calmed down to explain,” Arthur shifts, so that he is sat beside Merlin. Merlin leans against him. As the minutes pass, his breathing slows to normal, though he still shakes. Arthur can feel dampness on his shirt. Merlin buries his face in Arthur's shoulder, not looking at him. They sit like that, on the grubby floor of a public bathroom, for a good ten minutes. Someone knocks angrily at one point and Arthur tells them to piss off. He hopes the manager isn't summoned to open the door.

Merlin looks up eventually, misery cloaking him, pushing his posture into a hunch and turning his mouth downwards.

“I met with the author,” he begins.

Arthur waits for him to continue. Merlin breathes in and then the story tumbles out.

“They had failed to mention that they were very hard of hearing. So when we met, I spoke quietly because it was difficult, but I managed. But they kept saying ‘what?’ and then they just got angrier and angrier and I just shut down. I know it wasn't my fault, I suppose, but my brain convinced me I was speaking weirdly, or I wasn't making sense, or they hadn't really meant to meet me or something and I just... freaked, I suppose. Ran in here before I had a panic attack in public because that is worse. And I didn't know what to do so I called you and now I feel so stupid dragging you out of work because this is silly and nothing is wrong and you must have been so worried, or not, I mean, I wouldn't worry about me but...” Merlin's breath is rapid again and Arthur can see him getting worked up. Arthur turns him, so Merlin is looking at him.

“Merlin? I don't mind. Don't ever, ever feel bad about calling me. Even if you have only stubbed your toe. I mean, I might call you an idiot then. But not for this – never for this. And I'm proud of you, for meeting a stranger in a public place. You did well. A month or two ago you would never have been able to do that. So this is progress, okay?”

Merlin scowls. “I'm a twenty five year old man, crying in a public bathroom because someone misheard me. I'm sick of progress, if it's like this. I'm fucking sick of it all, Arthur. I try, so hard, but I'm just... broken, I guess. I don't deserve you. You shouldn't have to be stuck with someone like me. You want to marry me but I couldn't even speak the wedding vows in front of your family.”

The self-loathing in Merlin's voice makes tears sting Arthur's eyes. But he is annoyed, as well, at Merlin's inability to believe in the truth of Arthur's feelings.

“Merlin, I love you. Okay? I love you and so none of this matters to me. It will never matter to me. I don't care if we never get married or if you text me the bloody vows. I don't care. And if I did, if I was that shallow, it would be me that didn't deserve you. I fell in love with you before you spoke to me, okay? And the rest of the world can fuck off if they won’t accept you. But if you want to be able to talk and ask for cinema tickets or shout at strangers who get in your way, I fully believe you will get there. These things take time.”

Merlin sighs. Arthur kisses him, gently. It's salty and sad and sweet.

“I'm sorry. It's the anxiety – everything gets twisted, so I see it all wrong. I know you love me, and I know you aren't stuck with me, I think, I feel the truth of that. But when things like this happen it's just a downward spiral and I'm stuck on it until I hit the fucking bottom.”

“Is it too sappy if I say I'll catch you?”

“Arthur, you are so cheesy.”

“You love cheese.”

“I love you more,” Merlin whispers. Arthur gasps.

“Really? If it was save me or never eat cheese again?”

“I'd save you.”

Arthur shakes his head at the pair of them. Characters in the worst kind of rom com. It was made funnier by the fact that Merlin was so cynical of the characters in those films.

“Shall we go home? We can talk more when we aren't surrounded by bog roll and the smell of old piss?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Merlin says. Arthur stands, stretching out a hand to pull Merlin up. They open the door and Arthur realizes how they look. Merlin is pale and looks an absolute mess. His face is red, and Arthur knows it is from tears, but anxiety makes Merlin breathe heavily again. Arthur doesn't look too great either, having rushed here on a windy winter day.

A mother is waiting outside with her young daughter. She shakes her head in disgust when they unlock the door.

“Come on, Samantha. We'll go somewhere else. It's dirty in there.”

“Oh,” Arthur says, frantic. “We weren't...” The woman tuts as they pass and Arthur feels his face flame. Maybe it is his upbringing, but the implication makes him feel awful. He and Merlin may have done questionable things in questionable places (forests, kitchens, deserted castles) but a public bathroom is really not his style. After all, he is a romantic at heart. And toilet paper stuck to shoes really doesn't do it for him.


	27. A little christmas cheer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Merlin embark on a shopping trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray for two updates in one week ;) don't get used to it cos I'm hopeless these days. 
> 
> Anyway this is pure fluff and Merlin and Arthur just winding each other up. It was fun to write so I hope it's fun to read. I know its not quite the festive season but... this fic is on a weird timeline so. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

“It's nearly Christmas,” Arthur whispers into Merlin's skin. Merlin grumbles. “Merlin! You're not a Grinch, are you?”  
“I'm always a Grinch at--” Merlin squints at the alarm clock, “--seven thirty! What the actual... it's Saturday, you absolute bum hole.”  
“Now that's just mean,” Arthur moans, feeling oddly hurt.  
“Arthur, why did you feel the need to wake me up so bloody early to inform me of the date?”  
Arthur sniffs. “I didn't see the time. And I got excited. And I wanted to share it with you. But if you'd rather be unconscious, fine.” Arthur rolls over and puts a pillow over his head. He feels Merlin's hands running over his back, across his chest. Despite his annoyance, a shiver runs through him. Merlin really does have an unfair hold on him.  
“Sorry,” Merlin murmurs.  
“I thought you were mad.”  
Merlin laughs, “I was so mad. But then you were just so cute. And, seeing as we are awake...” Arthur rolls over. Merlin grins at him, hair flat on one side from the pillow and all tousled on the other. Dawn is just beginning, but it is a dark, cloudy day. Arthur just pauses and looks at Merlin, his blue eyes and pale skin and long fingers tracing roadmaps across his skin.  
“Seeing as we are awake?” Arthur prompts. Merlin pushes him back down onto the pillows in reply.  
When they wake up again, it is eleven. Merlin pads through to make tea and Arthur showers. It feels like they are really home now. Arthur isn't sure if it is sleeping or tea or sex or just the general, quiet intimacy, but it feels nice, and safe, and just... good.  
Merlin returns to the bedroom with two steaming mugs. Arthur accepts one with a kiss.  
“I was thinking,” he begins.  
“Oh dear.”  
“Shut up. Because it is such gross weather, we could go Christmas shopping.”  
“Or marathon Doctor Who.”  
“No! I hate Matt Smith’s chin.”  
“What? Why? He's a fine specimen of a male.”  
“It's just so... prominent. I think it must be your extra 45% of gay.”  
“No. It's your bad taste.”  
“Erm.”  
“Look, me and Gwen were your exceptions. Your only good choices.”  
“I have excellent taste,” Arthur protested.  
“OK then. Let's go.”  
“Where?”  
“Shopping, idiot.”  
“Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about Matt Smith’s chin again.”  
Merlin shakes his head and gets up to look for something to wear. Arthur sips his tea and wonders if his taste is really that bad. Gwen was pretty, in a homely way. And Merlin was attractive in a sharp, angular, lanky, awkward kind of way. So maybe he didn't go for the typically “stunning” people. That wasn't a bad thing. He just liked … people. For more than what they looked like. He couldn't remember ever feeling anything like love or lust at first sight. Except that one girl, but he was sure that was some witchy love potion bullshit because she turned out to be a right cow.  
…  
Merlin looks in the window of a brightly lit shop rather glumly.  
“I have a very short list of people to buy presents for,” he says. Arthur squeezes his hand.  
“There is Will. I still need to meet him, someday.”  
“Yeah, we'll wait till we're happily married for that. He's a bit of a dick.”  
“You've met my father,” Arthur points out. “Anyway, we can send gifts to Gwen and Lancelot, and Gwaine and Mel.”  
“What? Little baskets of cheese and shit?”  
“That sounds a bit too grown up.”  
“But yes, we could do something.”  
“I have to get something for my dad. It's going to have to cost a lot. It's how we show affection.”  
Merlin shakes his head. “I remember I always used to make Gaius presents. Drawings and stuff. Most of them sucked, but there were a few nice ones. He always, always gave me books – a great big stack of them. Some old ones from the shop: obscure history books he thought I'd like and myths and legends. But new ones too, all genres. I'll miss that. Not getting gifts, just being given stories, you know?”“Not really. Pretty sure my father got my nanny to buy me presents. The last few years I think he's got them himself, and they have been weird. Shares in strange companies, fancy watches, a personalised number plate – p3ndrgn – you get the idea.”  
Merlin snorts. “Okay. No number plates. So shall we split up and buy for each other then? And then meet up and get stuff for Gwen and everyone?”  
“Sounds like a plan,” Arthur grins, kissing Merlin quickly in parting. He has the brief awareness of how lucky he is that he can do that, here. “I'll see you later.”  
It isn't difficult to decide what to buy Merlin. Arthur walks into the nearest bookstore and begins scouring the shelves for books that Merlin might like. He does have the slight worry that Merlin might have read them, given that he seems to read books faster than Arthur can do just about anything.  
“Excuse me?” he says to the guy at the counter. Arthur hates to make judgements, but he looks nerdy enough to know about books. He is reading the fourth Game of Thrones novel and drinking out of a Doctor Who mug. It seems a safe bet.  
“Yes?” The guy looks up and smiles at Arthur. “How can I help?”  
“Can you point me towards the newest books you have? Like, published this year. Either that or old, obscure fantasy or sci-fi series.”  
The guy grins. “Are you much of a reader, then?”  
“Not so much. It's a gift for my fiancé; he never stops reading.”  
“Ah. I knew it.”  
“Knew what?”  
“That you liked guys. Was gonna slip you my number, but I guess you are taken.”  
Arthur realizes he has to stop bringing up his fiancé. He sounds obsessed. He is though, a bit. He just likes the ring to it, he supposes, the sense of permanence, connection, devotion. And yes, maybe he is just completely besotted. He doesn't care.  
“What? How? And yes, very much so. Not that I'm not flattered, of course,” Arthur says. Why do people always hit on him? He is going to get so fat over Christmas. That will do the trick.  
“I have impeccable gaydar.”  
“I'm not that gay. I hate Matt Smith.”  
“Ah. It never would have worked out between us. So, these books, can you tell me any series you know he likes?”  
Arthur rattles of a list of titles he has seen around the apartment. He leaves with a stack of books and the guy’s number, but he was given it in a platonic way, with instructions to let him know if Merlin liked the books.  
He does realize on the way out that the shape of the bag makes it very clear it is books. He runs into a Primark before meeting Merlin and buys a blanket to wedge around them. The bag is reusable, and Arthur is finally grateful for Merlin's environmentally conscious self. A little craft store catches his eye when he comes out. He's never made much of anything before, but he has the feeling Merlin would appreciate the sentiment.  
There is an overwhelming selection of small things to glue on to cards. And kits targeted at five-ten year olds. Actually, that might not be a bad place to start. But then in the corner he sees a selection of pendants and cords. Perhaps he could manage stringing some beads or something. He finds a faded bronze charm, a wizard’s hat, that feels right. He also finds a tiny charm of a tree, which reminds him of when they camped, and, obscurely, a block of cheese. Arthur surveys the collection sitting in the palm of his hand. Some part of him knows that, aesthetically, this is going to look awful. But a bigger part knows it will make Merlin smile. He picks out a piece of leather cord and a handful of plain wooden beads to fill in the gaps.  
The woman at the counter smiles at him.  
“It's nice to see a young man in here,” she says. “It's mostly middle aged ladies with too much time on their hands.”  
“Oh. Well. I'm not very crafty,” Arthur looks at his purchases. “Actually, could you help me? I've no idea how to put this together.”  
The woman smiled, apparently charmed by Arthur's ineptitude. “Is it a gift?”  
Arthur nodded.  
“I'll show you with some scraps,” she gets some thread and a few beads and shows Arthur how to tie intricate knots to hold them in place. The finished product looks quite respectable. Arthur assembles his on the counter, grateful that it is quiet in the shop. When he is finished, he is unashamedly proud of himself. He catches the woman smiling at him. A blush spreads over his cheeks. He has never done anything like this before.  
“Well done. You learnt fast. You should try some more projects.”  
“Sales pitch?”  
The woman laughs. “This shop is just a hobby, really. I'm mostly retired.”  
“Well, maybe I'll be back. Thank you.”  
The woman bids him farewell and Arthur slips the bracelet into his pocket and runs to where he is meeting Merlin. Merlin is already sat on the bench, a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face. It wouldn't be surprising to see snowflakes encrusted onto his eyelashes. He hasn't seen Arthur coming and his expression is blank and he seems a part of winter, somehow. Arthur sees for the first time what the rest of the world sees: a closed door of a young man. Arthur sneaks up to him, wrapping his arms around Merlin's waist. Merlin turns around, laughing and kissing him. It's like Arthur is seeing him wake up. He can't wait for the day when Merlin is awake all day.  
“So, did you get my present?” Merlin asked.  
“I did. It's pretty great, if I do say so myself.”  
Merlin squints at him.  
“Well, I got you something too. I hope you like it.”  
“I'll love it.”  
“You might not.”  
“Then I'll lie.”  
“Maybe it's a joke present.”  
“I swear, Merlin, if it's Matt Smith's chin on anything, it's over.”  
Merlin smirks.  
“Shall we go get hot chocolate?”  
“Before I end up with a literal icicle for a fiancé? I think so.”  
“You are so in love with me,” Merlin smirks.  
Arthur shoves him, but then hooks an arm around his waist in case he slips on the icy ground. Well, he couldn't exactly deny it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask where the Matt Smith thing came from. It just made me giggle to imagine Merlin and Arthur watching tv and having heated debates over whether people are attractive or not.
> 
> Anyhow, let me know what you think
> 
> :)


	28. Christmas day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is progressing. Christmas arrives and brings an anxious Gwaine, some fig flavour cookies, pizza and a nervous exchanging of gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Enjoy.

Neither Merlin nor Arthur had any kind of flair for interior design, but they had decorated the apartment in a way that wasn't too offensive. Merlin had insisted, “If we are getting a tree, it will be a real one. Not some plastic commercial shit.”   
Seeing as Arthur had left the world of commerce, at least on a larger scale, he obliged. And that is how they ended up trekking back out to the old castle with an axe hidden in Merlin's backpack.   
“This is a terrible idea,” Arthur pointed out. “I'm sure you can get arrested for this kind of thing.”   
“No one will know if you keep your fat mouth shut.”   
“Fine. But only a small tree. I know you are going to make me carry it.”   
They get off the bus and head into the woods, looking for a tree that they might feasibly be able to cut down and carry.   
“Are you sure this is allowed, Merlin?”   
Merlin shrugged. “Fine. We'll just get a big branch.” He walks further into the trees, finding a medium-sized pine with a bushy branch at about shoulder height.   
“Give me the axe. You will cut of your arm.”   
“Arthur! I am a competent individual.”   
“Yes,” Arthur agrees, “but you are also horribly clumsy.”   
“You're not that much better.”   
“I know how to use an axe. Well, a sword. How different can it be?”   
Merlin sighs and hands over the tool. Arthur hacks into the branch. He feels a little bad, attacking a plant like this, but they aren't really doing that much damage. Probably not as much damage as the production and disposal of a plastic tree, anyway. The branch falls, landing with a satisfying thud. Merlin picks it up and grins.   
“Our first tree.”   
“Branch,” Arthur corrects.   
“Semantics. Now we can finish decorating.”   
“Will it stand up?”   
“We can put it in a pot.”  
“Imposter.”   
“We don't have space for a whole tree anyway,” Merlin points out, heaving the branch onto his shoulder. It's actually quite big, with more twigs covered in pine needles sticking out all along it. They head back to the bus stop. They look even odder now: two young men, red nosed, shivering, holding hands and dragging a branch behind them. Luckily, the bus is nearly empty. The driver gives them an odd look but Arthur smiles at him.   
“A friend gave it to us. We're on a budget this year.”   
“My wife always prefers the real ones. Needles are a bastard though,” he says, waving them on to the bus. Arthur sits on a single seat and Merlin stands beside him, holding on to the branch. They grin at each other, caught up in the thrill of Christmas and slight mischief.  
…  
They sleep late on Christmas day, and wake curled together. Snowflakes cling to the windows and the world outside is frosted. Merlin kisses Arthur, cupping his jaw with a hand warm from sleep.   
“Morning,” he whispers. Arthur sighs and pulls him closer, enjoying the sensation of Merlin's bare skin against his.   
“I love you,” Arthur murmurs, still not quite awake. Merlin kisses him again, harder now, more insistent. Arthur feels his body waking up, shifting closer to Merlin. He wonders how it is possible to wake up every day wanting Merlin more, how he never gets used to the way Merlin's lungs fill before he gasps, his whole body arching and exhaling beneath him. How the scent of his skin is as intoxicating as it was the first time, the warmth of it and the faint spice. How Merlin says his name, how he is saying it now as Arthur presses him down into the pillows, hands tangled in the ink of his hair.   
“Arthur...” Merlin says, voice hoarse, and the word is a caress, a promise, a plea. Arthur dips down to his collarbone, kissing the small constellation of freckles there – three of them, clustered. Arthur sits up, looking down at Merlin, at his dilated pupils and swollen lips, pale chest and the slimness of his hips, pressed against Arthur's. Every second of it is a gift, a pure joy that Arthur never knew he could feel. Merlin never stays still for long, though, and Arthur is on his back before he can protest, legs spread wide and body exposed. Merlin looks at him, considering, before bending down and kissing his inner thigh, sucking a mark into the soft skin there. Arthur isn't sure if it is that or the gentle curve of Merlin's spine that makes his breath catch in his throat. The picture of it, the two of them there, washed out in winter light like a filtered photograph, makes him realize that he will always love winter now, because it was the season that gave him Merlin.   
And that is Christmas morning, neither of them praying to a god but worshipping the other until the desire for tea and the sound of the doorbell forces them back into the real world. Merlin dresses and Arthur doesn't tell him that the t-shirt he picked up belonged to him; he likes to see the folds of it on his slimmer frame. They go to answer the doorbell together. They hadn't planned to have visitors.   
“Merry Christmas!” Gwaine shouts, punching the air with one hand and hugging Merlin with his other arm. Mel rolls her eyes behind him. Merlin shrugs Gwaine's arm off and moves to let them in.   
“Are you drinking already?” Arthur asked. Gwaine's face is flushed and he grins giddily.   
“No,” Mel says. “He really is just this excited.”   
“Right!” Gwaine says, putting a basket on the sofa. “I baked cookies. Double chocolate, white chocolate and cranberry, and, er... secret...Christmas...spice.”   
“Sounds ominous,” Merlin quipped. Arthur looks up, pleased and surprised. Merlin shrugs. “To be honest, I don't think I could embarrass myself more than Gwaine if I tried.”   
“Also, I baked cake.”   
“Fig?” Arthur asks. He crosses his fingers. Not fig. Please not fig.   
“Fig cupcakes! Oh, and gingerbread muffins, for all you philistines.”   
“So, are you guys staying or...” Arthur trails off. He and Merlin hadn't planned on cooking for guests. Actually, he isn’t sure they are going to manage to cook a decent Christmas dinner for themselves. Merlin doesn’t eat meat and Arthur is very wary of Quorn.   
“No,” Mel says. “He's coming with me to meet my grandma. He was anxiety baking all night. Under the pretense of gifts. So here you go.”   
“I bake well under pressure,” Gwaine says. “So you are in luck.”   
“Well,” Merlin says, eyeing the cookies with a childish glee in his eyes. “Thank you.”   
“We had best be off,” Mel says. Gwaine looks horrified. “My gran is lovely, you idiot.”   
“Grandmas are scary. Big teeth and all that.”   
“I've told you, I wore that red hoody once. It means nothing.”   
“You can't be too careful.”   
“Man up.”   
“I thought you said no gender stereotypes in this relationship?” Gwaine moans.   
“That was because I wanted to make it very clear I wasn't doing the laundry.”   
Gwaine sniffs. “Well, I'm in touch with my emotions and that is no bad thing.”   
Arthur looks at Merlin, who shrugs helplessly.   
“What's Christmas without a few domestics?” he mouths.   
“Well, we got you guys a present!” Arthur says cheerily, breaking into the squabbling. As once, Mel and Gwaine turn around.   
Merlin hands them a wrapped package. They look at each other, deciding who should get the honour of destroying Arthur and Merlin's dubious wrapping. They tear it off together, not in an intimate way, more like neither wants to give in. Arthur gets the feeling everything is a competition of sorts with them.   
Gwaine looks delighted with a pair of socks covered in coffee cups and Mel smiles at the recipe book entitled Fun Recipes for Figs.  
They thank Merlin and Arthur. Gwaine asks to use the bathroom and stays in there until Mel drags him out and shepherds him into the car. Arthur and Merlin look at each other, slightly confused, slightly pleased.   
“They are oddly perfect for one another, in a dysfunctional way,” Merlin comments.   
“Do you think people think that about us?” Arthur asks. He hopes so.   
Merlin shrugs. “Who cares about the world? I think we are pretty damn perfect. Now, the real question, is Morgana going to drop in today?”   
Arthur shrugs. “You can never tell. Let's keep the sex in the bedroom.”   
Merlin pulls a disgruntled face and then grins. “So,” he says. “Presents?”    
With a shy smile, Merlin hands Arthur a package, wrapped much neater than the one Arthur had ready for Merlin. Arthur looks at it, trying to guess what it is. It is oddly shaped, as though two objects are shoved inside together. He can’t guess though. He's always been hopeless at figuring things like that out; as a child Morgana had always inexplicably known what every present was. Arthur had been baffled by even the most obvious ones. 

"Open it then," Merlin saidsays chewing his lip. "This is making me nervous."   
"Why?" Arthur laughs. "You could give me ... an old sock and I'd love it if you thought I would." 

"Well, I'll remember that. My bank account will love you." 

"You didn't spend much, did you?"   
"Nah," Merlin says, motioning for Arthur to take the paper off. Arthur unwraps it slowly. 

"Merlin," hebreathes, "it's beautiful." 

"Which one?" 

"The drawing, you idiot. I never knew you drew." There is a thick sheet of cartridge paper, a charcoal sketch of the castle they had visited on it. He can just see their figures at the top, one hanging over the side, arms out, the other behind. In the corner are the words "To Arthur, I wanted this memory to be as vivid for you as it is for me. I love you, Merlin." 

Arthur kisses Merlin before he looks at the other gifts. 

"No!" Merlin protests. "The mug! Look at the mug!" 

Arthur looks at it. The eleventh Doctor's bow tie floats on a blue background, chinless. Arthur narrows his eyes at Merlin. Merlin smirks with delight. 

"You are so smug." 

"You love it." 

"You won’t when I leave tea in it for a week and you have to clean it." 

"New Year’s resolution: Merlin does not, under any circumstances, wash Arthur's mugs." 

"Well then. The Emrys-Pendragon household is going tealess." 

Merlin's eyes widen in horror. Arthur hands him his gifts to distract him. Merlin grins and opens the largest one, a cardboard box that is extremely heavy. 

"If this is a new microwave..." 

"Yes, Merlin, I got you a bloody microwave for our first Christmas together. Romance is so dead." 

Merlin manages to tear the tape off the box. He looks inside at the stack of books and then looks back at Arthur. "You got me books? After..." 

Arthur shrugs. "I wanted it to be... easier. And I thought, well, I guess I can always read them too. And mostly I thought you would like it, it would keep him alive or something, I don't know..." Arthur trails off. Merlin hugs him so hard Arthur has to wait until he lets go to inhale again. Merlin's eyes are shining when he pulls away. 

"You might have read some of them. I got this guy to recommend some in the bookshop, and then I went to some second hand stores in town after work and got some old, obscure mythology texts and..." 

"I love them," Merlin says, a smile pouring sunshine out of him. 

"Here," Arthur hands the smaller package, small enough to sit in his palm. Merlin opens it and looks like he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. 

"D'you like it?" Arthur says anxiously. He hadn't realized how much it meant to him. Now that he looks at it, he can see how silly it looks. Cheese and a bloody wizard’s hat. He can’t wait till they got to anniversaries and all that. They were hopeless. 

"I... it's so us, Arthur." 

Arthur looks at him, waiting for elaboration. 

"I mean, we go to remote places and say stupid sappy things in the rain and that is part of us, but then we also laugh about stupid things like cheese and I don't know, I feel like it all fits together into something pretty special, you know?" 

"I know," Arthur whispers, taking Merlin's hands in his and leaning their foreheads together. This was the real gift, quiet feeling and smiles. 

Morgana texts and promises to torment them on Boxing Day. They burn the Quorn roast and decide against green vegetables, so they end up eating roast potatoes, stuffing, and pizza. Naturally, they watch Doctor Who. Arthur moans about the side characters and Merlin moans about the lack of diversity in the writing. but they both laugh.  They marathon Game of Thrones for the hundredth time and fall asleep under a blanket on the couch. As Arthur's eyes drift shut, he thinks that this is probably his favorite Christmas so far. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is still reading, I'm sorry it's so slow these days. I'm back at school which makes me pretty unhappy and stressed which is not great for writing. I'm trying. Also, I am aware that this chapter isn't really my best but if you did enjoy it I'd still appreciate comments and reviews as always. And hopefully the next update is a bit sooner. :)


	29. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's new year and it's freezing and Arthur thinks its perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always , apologies for slow updates. 
> 
> I have news to break to you guys - the next chapter will quite possibly be the last chapter of the story. I know I could go on forever detailing the minutae of these idiot's lives but I feel like they have completed their journey for now. We shall see. However that won't be The End full stop because I have promised epilogues. 
> 
> Anyway I really hope you like this chapter - I feel like its one of my better ones :) and as always, please do let me know what you think.

“Arthur?” Merlin whispers, placing a hand on his wrist. “Come outside with me?”  
Arthur glances up at the old clock on the wall. 11:52.  
“Okay,” he whispers back. “Give me a second to escape from my father.”  
Uther is sat opposite them in the Pendragon's ridiculously-sized lounge. The room was made for men eight feet tall, it seemed, though maybe it was just to accommodate Uther's ego. Arthur and Merlin are curled together on one end of a hard leather couch, shiny enough that Arthur has to grip the arm to stop them both sliding onto the polished wood floor. Every time Uther's eyes glance off their twined fingers he frowns slightly, but Arthur isn’t here to lie. The sooner Uther accepts that Merlin is his future, the better.  
“Father? Merlin doesn't feel too well. I'm going to show him to the bathroom.”  
Merlin elbows him.  
“It's all the cheese he ate, you see. We normally get cheddar from Tesco's. It's not sitting well with him.”  
Merlin breathes in deeply. “If you'll excuse us, Mr Pendragon, I have to go and teach your son some manners. My bowels are fine.”  
Uther looks startled. Arthur can feel a laugh bubbling up inside him. Merlin spoke to his father. About bowels. Anything was possible.  
“Yes, yes of course. Go,” Uther says, waving them out. They leap up in unison, Merlin all but pulling Arthur out of the lounge and into the hall. The ceiling soars over them and Arthur feels a little like he could float up to the top, like a weird human balloon. Maybe he'd drunk too much. Maybe it was just Merlin.  
“Come on. Outside,” Merlin says.  
“I don't have any shoes on,” Arthur looks down at his socked feet, odd, one was Merlin's. It had a hole in the toe. How odd they looked against the oak floor. The sight of it summed up Arthur's journey over the last year, from a spoiled rich boy to someone he was actually okay with, odd socks and all.  
“Who cares?”  
“My toes, Merlin. It's snowing.”  
Merlin just laughs and tows him down the corridor.  
“Wrong way.”  
“Your house is silly.”  
Arthur heads for the back door, the one that leads into a small garden. They open it to freezing, biting air. Merlin gasps.  
“It's always warmer in the city,” Arthur says. Useless information. Some bigger feeling is growing in him. Merlin laughs, soft and free, and steps into Arthur's arms. He slips his hands under Arthur's jumper, a hideous knitted affair he'd bought the other week when they were out. He'd had no coat and only three pounds change. Charity shops had been the only option. He kind of liked the way Merlin cringed when he looked at it.  
“You're hands are freezing.”  
“It's cos I'm not as fat as you,” Merlin grumbles against his chest.  
“Oi!” Arthur says, indignant. He loves the fine lines of Merlin's body, though: delicate in appearance, strong to touch.  
“Kidding. You look great.”  
“It's nearly next year,” Arthur murmurs. “We'll hear the clock chime inside.” He pulls the door shut behind them, so they are stood on the step alone, together. Snow heaps beside the step, covers the ground like a fresh coat of paint, a new beginning. The clock begins to strike. One, two, three. Merlin looks up at him. Arthur could drown in his eyes. Four, five, six. Merlin's lips beside his, the flutter of breath on his skin, butterfly wings. Seven, eight, nine. Maybe it should have been gentle, tender. But Merlin's mouth is warm and welcoming, and his hands are gripping Arthur's hips. Ten, eleven, twelve. Never has he loved like this.  
They pull apart to silence. Their first new year. Arthur had never kissed someone on New Year’s before, never been so aware of the passage of time and another person at the same time. It felt like a turning point, somehow, a step forward.  
“I love you,” Merlin murmurs. “I don't confess it the way you do. But I do, so much it scares me, so much it hurts even now. But I couldn't live without it, I don't think. Couldn't breathe without it.”  
“Don't be so dramatic,” Arthur whispers, kissing him again. Merlin laughs, at himself, at both of them, at the truth of it all. “It's freezing,” Arthur says.  
“Stay,” Merlin replies. “This moment is perfect.”  
Arthur pauses, taking it all in. The silhouette of the trees, stark and foreboding, the warm, buttery spill of light from the window, the white of the world, the shadow of Merlin's eyelashes, the curve of his jaw, hair fringing his face, lips swollen and smiling, chest against his, words on his lips that sound like they feel – flying and falling and catching, a promise, a prayer, binding and freeing and everything he never knew he wanted, never knew he needed.  
“We'll be alright, won’t we?” he asks.  
Merlin grins. “I'll run the bookshop, and you will study. I'll learn to cook actual meals and we can have more than four guests over because we'll have an actual table. You can bake cookies because I don't have the precision for baking. I'll write and slowly become more and more pretentious until you have to remind me that too many metaphors is a bad thing. We'll go camping when it's actually warm and travel Europe and you can run a blog or something. And we'll visit your dad at New Year's until he finally realizes I'm not a phase.”  
“Can we eat fancy cheese? I forgot how much I missed it.”  
Merlin laughs. “If you are buying it.”  
Arthur kisses Merlin, holding him close enough that he can feel Merlin's heartbeat, even through the rough wool of his jumper. He doesn't have the words to explain how much he loves the idea of their future. And it starts now. 


	30. Equilibrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Here we are. Save for epilogues. Enjoy. (teary goodbye at the end)

“You know that scene in ‘The Hobbit’?” Merlin asks, carrying another box outside. This one is labelled “jam jars.”

“Which one?” Arthur replies. There had been a lot.

“The one where Bilbo comes back and all his stuff is being sold off. And the Sackville-Baggins are trying to get his spoons.”

Arthur nods.

“I keep expecting Gaius to walk in, like Bilbo, and tell me off for messing up his herbs.”

A small sadness blooms in Arthur. It feels like an old bruise.

“This is what he wanted,” Arthur says as gently as he can. But it isn't easy. They have spent the last two days clearing out the house, sorting things into piles of stuff to give away, stuff to sell, stuff to keep. All the history books are staying, naturally, along with pots and pans and some furniture, some things with sentimental value: a messily-glued vase that Merlin smashed when he was thirteen; a cracked photo of him and Gaius smiling; a letter Gaius had written to his own mother, scrawled on paper soft enough with age that it almost crumbled. They'd agreed to paint and clean once they had cleared the house, so it felt like it was theirs.

Merlin puts the box of jars down with a sigh. “I know. But I just remember how he hated people in his kitchen and how once I lost his page in a book and he sulked for the rest of the day. And it looks so familiar that I turn and forget and then I remember all over again.”

“It will get better,” Arthur says, hugging Merlin to him. It's awkward, his arms filled with books. But he can feel that his words are true: the more they work, the more he can see something new emerge from what is old. This house, all old stone and bookshelves, feels like it could feel like home. Potential energy, perhaps.

Over the next few weeks, they spend the weekends at the new house, cleaning, painting, redecorating. They also work in the bookshop, working out what to change, what to keep the same.

At long last, Merlin takes the last box to the charity shop in town. They stand in the kitchen and look at each other, small grins growing.

“We did it,” Arthur says. Merlin takes his hand.

“This moment would be so much better if it didn't reek of paint everywhere.”

Arthur shrugs. You can't have everything after all. The kitchen is clean, emptier and neater than it was before. They kept Gaius' mad shelving – Merlin muttered something about tins and jars. They'd only need that many shelves if they were stocking up for the apocalypse. Although, that did seem like the kind of idea Merlin might propose. He read too many books. The wooden sides have been sanded down and polished so they shine, the walls repainted, tiles scrubbed. It is the very picture of a country cottage. Arthur had thought he'd feel odd somewhere so domestic and...middle-aged. But he likes the space and the fact that it is theirs.

“What will you miss most about the apartment?” he asks Merlin.

“Gwaine's cookies,” Merlin says without pause.

“I'll get the recipe.”

“Arthur, you'll never come close. That guy has a talent.”

“Least?”

Merlin laughs. “Mr and Mrs next door, obviously.”

Arthur nods in agreement. Let’s just say they had some inventive nicknames for each other and engaged in loud sexual activity very late at night.

“Oh, and the landlord. What an asshole.”

“We did flood the kitchen,” Merlin points out.

“It was a small leak.”

“Mrs. Bertrand from downstairs ended up having to move out for a week.”

“Oh shush.”

“Tea, Arthur?”

“Yes dear. That would be lovely,” Arthur says, a mocking grin spreading over his face.

Merlin just narrows his eyes.

“Don't even try to be ironic. You love all this domesticity.”

Arthur shrugs but he can feel his cheeks warming.

…

Life, as it tends to eventually, finds a kind of equilibrium. Merlin writes and works in the bookshop. The environment seems to calm him, and he is happy between the shelves. Sometimes he is quiet and sometimes he leaves Arthur notes between the pages of the books he recommends. Sometimes he is not so quiet, and he chats to customers about books, though his voice is always soft, a library voice. Kids seem to love him, and he sends children away with copies of Harry Potter and The Northern Lights daily. Maybe it's because they have that childish love, the ability to completely give themselves over to fantasy. Arthur loves that Merlin never lost that – his cynicism covers up a depth of feeling that is overwhelming sometimes.

Arthur reads Merlin's book, and sees the world through Merlin's eyes: an impossible technicolour of feeling, shadows darker than midnight and feelings that soar. He writes the way he speaks late at night, when his tiredness breaks down his walls.

Uther interferes, always. Dinner every other Sunday. Merlin only complies because Arthur plies him with posh cheese. When they moved in, Morgana came over and moved all their furniture around. She should have done interior design, but she seemed to be enjoying climbing her way to the top of a multi-million pound corporation instead.

Arthur studies (speech and language therapy at their local university. Merlin inspired him.) Life ticks by. The cottage fills with their belongings:  their books, shoes, ticket stubs, photographs and, of course, hundreds of handwritten notes. Eventually they all make their way into an old shoebox, and then another and another, a jumbled record of feelings and memories and emotions.

Somehow, they have grown. Merlin found his voice and Arthur found his meaning, and most importantly, they had found each other.

One evening, when Merlin is writing, curled on the couch and lost somewhere else, Arthur looks at him and remembers him all coated in silver moonlight and breath coming in gasps. He picks up the notebook that always sits near them.

Merlin?

Arthur? Merlin replies, smiling the way he always does when he answers a question with a question.

Do you think we should get around to that wedding?

One Day – M

Merlin laughs as he writes. Arthur closes his eyes and captures the moment – the simplicity, the potential, the future. They are quiet in their life, but not small. In the little room is the steadfastness of mountains, the history of castles and the wisdom of trees. Merlin is his world. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was OK. The story has been told, really. So this wasn't a long chapter. I am tentatively planning about 3 extra scenes, but I'm not sure when they will be done.   
> Thank you all so much for reading - you have truly been a wonderful bunch and I'm so glad you liked this story enough to stay. I am really going to miss this fic. You are the first group of proper readers I have had - you've really boosted my confidence and made me realize that I can, in fact, write. So, to all of you, thank you. Truly.   
> And do stay subscribed to this fic cos it's not quite over yet. I will no doubt write Merthur again, so if you liked you could subscribe to me if you are interested in future stories.   
> :)


	31. Wedding days and future plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur get married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you've all probably moved on from this fic and can't remember what the heck it was about by now. I'm really sorry I vanished for so long. Nanowrimo happened and I left school and got caught up in Ucas applications and life generally took over for awhile. But I was reading through the comments on this and you guys were so lovely and encouraging that I felt I owed it to you to write their wedding. It's probably not worth the wait, but here it is anyway. 
> 
> I'm going to mark this fic as complete now, because I don't see myself writing anymore any time soon. I may revisit this world (parenting fic, anyone?) further down the line, but I make no promises. :)

Arthur stands at the altar, heart beating out of control. He can’t even define the emotion. Some combination of nerves, excitement and a love for Merlin that may cause him to spontaneously combust. 

 

His father had taken him aside that morning and very seriously asked if he was absolutely sure he wanted to marry a man. Arthur had quite calmly told him that he’d been with Merlin for almost four years and he still really enjoyed having sex with him. Uther had turned beet red and spluttered a little and that had been the end of the conversation. 

 

Merlin stood beside him, dressed in a slim black suit that fit him better than most of his other clothes. Arthur had persuaded him to get it tailored and Merlin had reluctantly agreed. For the past week, both of their suits had hung on the back of their bedroom door, filling him with equal parts terror and excitement. 

 

Terror wasn’t the right word, really. He was more sure of Merlin than he was of anything in his life. Merlin was a constant. Nothing short of death would force them apart. He knew that like he knew his own name. It just was. It was just the formality of it, he supposed, of standing up in front of all the people, those from his old life and his new one, and promising that this thing between them, their relationship that had largely been a private thing, was going to be permanent and forever and on display. Plus Gwaine and Mel had been telling them horror stories about their parents divorces for the last month and that didn’t help. 

 

Which was daft of them really because they got married two months after getting together. Hypocrites, the pair of them. Mel had just given birth to their first child three months ago. They named him Oscar, even though Gwaine was pushing for Frodo. He was a huge nerd. 

 

Arthur turns to Merlin and any worries melt away. Merlin is stood in front of a room full of people and he is beaming from ear to ear. Arthur feels his face mirror Merlin expression. He can’t help it. When Merlin smiles, he smiles. 

 

Merlin reaches out and takes Arthur’s hand, squeezing his fingers tight.

 

The room is filling with people. Arthur had tried to have a small wedding, he really had. But Uther had insisted that if he was going to get married, he was bloody well going to do it properly. He’d decided that him being liberal and accepting of his son’s marriage to another man looked quite good in the papers. His earlier question had just been a formality, really. Uther had never stopped hoping that Arthur would return to the company.

 

He recognizes a lot of the faces - people from work, business partners ect fill the back few rows. The front rows are filled with his friends though, Gwaine and Mel and Merlin’s friend Will, Lancelot and Gwen and their two adorable children (Gwen had had twins. They had just started walking and were kind of a nightmare. He was surprised they weren’t strapped to their seats.) Morgana is there as well, dressed in a dark green gown that reaches the floor. Guess she didn’t need to worry about outshining the bride. She was trying to conceal a smile but failing. Her job was good for her - she took her temper out on her employees and was generally much nicer to everyone else. 

 

Uther hadn’t had much success marrying her off either, much to his disgruntlement.

 

The service begins and Merlin turns to face him, taking his other hand. The sun pours across his face, setting him alight and Arthur is struck with wonder. How did he end up with someone so beautiful as Merlin? He is almost ethereal in the light, yet his hands are warm and soft, grounding. It doesn’t matter where they are. Merlin is home. 

 

They say their vows softly, though Merlin’s voice doesn’t shake. It’s only on his worst days that he is silent now. When it comes to the last vow, they look at each other and grin like fools. 

 

Instead of speaking the last two words, they exchange notes, written in their handwriting on thick parchment paper. 

 

_ I do - M _

 

_ I do - A  _

 

Some things are better silent, they know. The meaning of their words, unsaid, fills the room. Together, bound, eternal. MerlinandArthur. And now the whole world knows it. 

 

Arthur kisses Merlin and he meant it to be quick and chaste and innocent but he only has this kiss once and he is elated and it’s only when the sound of applause reaches his ears that realizes he has dipped Merlin half to the floor. They stand, blushing and rumpled, and look out at the sea of people who have showed up in support of them. 

 

“OK?” Arthur whispers to Merlin. 

 

“The best,” he whispers back. Arthur’s smile might break his face. He’s going to look like a complete idiot in the photographs. 

 

They throw a bouquet out together, though neither of them had been carrying one. They wanted to see the shock on the face of whoever caught it. When Morgana caught it and dropped it like it was a bomb, Arthur nearly collapsed from laughter. He’d love to meet the person brave enough to devote their life to his sister. 

 

…

 

Merlin is holding Oscar, smiling down at his tiny, down covered head. Arthur doesn’t know if men can get broody, per say, but the sight of Merlin holding a baby does something odd to him. He wants that, he thinks. He wants their little family to grow into something more. He goes over to Merlin and slides and arm around their waste and smiles at the picture of them. Mel takes Oscar back and Merlin turns, wrapping his arms around Arthur and kissing him, not caring who sees. 

 

“I love you,” Arthur whispers. 

 

“How much?” 

 

“As much as you love cheese, probably.” 

 

“Then I love you more,” Merlin says. “Cos I reckon i’d choose you over cheese.” 

 

“Really?” Arthur says, and under the jokes is nothing but honest feeling. 

 

“Really. Even more than that really expensive brie you got me for my birthday.” 

 

Arthur smiles and kisses him again. 

 

“I can’t wait until we are alone,” he whispers. 

 

“We can’t leave our own wedding early,” Merlin replies. 

 

“We could come back later…” He kisses Merlin again, deeper this time, trying to convince him that they absolutely should leave everyone to get horribly drunk by themselves. 

 

It never takes much convincing to get Merlin alone though. Perks of dating an introvert - they pretty much always prefer staying in to partying. 

 

“After the first dance,” Merlin says, and Arthur concedes. They probably should stay at least that long. 

 

…

 

They get up horribly early the next morning and load up their car (they have an actual car now. Gauis’ cottage had very poor public transport links.) They drive all day until they reach the forest where they stayed all those years ago, and this time they walk to the site hand in hand. This nearly lands them both in a muddy bog, but it’s worth it. 

 

It’s freezing, just like last time. They’d got married in winter because Merlin had hoped to kiss Arthur in the rain. For once, England had let them down; it had been sunny all day. Arthur was glad because his suit cost a fortune. 

 

Merlin doesn’t pretend to do anything writerly this time, even though he’s on deadline for his next book. There is a shelf in lounge dedicated to all the different editions of his books so far and Merlin pretends he isn’t smug but Arthur sees him grin every time he looks at it. 

 

They spend three days in the freezing forest, most of it wrapped up in a sleeping bag and each other. It’s quite and peaceful and perfect, and as Arthur closes his eyes to go to sleep, he can hear only the sound of Merlin’s even breaths and the rain drops on the ceiling. 

 

Merlin rolls over right before they fall asleep. 

 

“Hey Arthur?” he whispers. “Are you awake?”

 

“Mmm? Sort of,” he mumbles. 

 

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, and he sound shy, unsure. 

 

“Yes,” Arthur says. “The answer is probably yes.” 

 

Merlin pokes him. “I haven’t asked yet. I might have been about to suggest we get a pig as a house pet.” 

 

“A pig would be cleaner than you,” Arthur mumbled. Merlin pokes him in the ribs again. 

 

“You’ve ruined the moment now, clotpole.” 

 

Arthur rolls over and kisses Merlin, slow and soft, thumb caressing his cheek bone. 

 

“OK it’s back.” 

 

“So, what were you going to say?” 

 

Merlin sits up a little to look at him. “I think we should have a baby,” he says. 

 

Arthur wants to crack some joke about biology but honestly he can’t do much except grin. 

 

“Yes,” he says. “I think so too.” 

 

“Really?” Merlin says. “I thought you’d be more worried.” 

 

“Oh I’m terrified,” Arthur says cheerfully. “I can’t wait. I’m gonna call her Sansa, or maybe Tyrion if it’s a boy, but only cos I can't call a kid "The Doctor" and we’re gonna read Harry Potter together, and watch Doctor who. It’s never getting a cat though. No kittens. That’s the line…” he keeps babbling until Merlin shoves a hand over his mouth. 

 

“Shut up, you cabbagehead. And you are not naming a child after anyone in Game of Thrones. That is a death sentence."

 

“I love you too,” Arthur tries to say, but it sounds more like “Mmmhh ummmpph oohh mmo” against Merlin’s hand. When Merlin removes it, Arthur looks up at him. "What about Neville?" he asks, "Or Luna? They were great characters."

"We'll see," Merlin says, though he is grinning just as stupidly as Arthur is. "Now go to sleep." 

"You're the one who woke me up!" Arthur protests in mock outrage. 

"It's good practice for the baby," Merlin says, curling into his side and kissing his jawline.

  
They fall asleep in a heap, hands clasped and hopeful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope that was OK. And if any of the people who read this as it was written are reading (somehow that makes no sense) thank you so much for all your support and feedback. I read your comments whenever I'm unsure of my writing and you have made me believe that writing is actually something I could feasibly do with my life. As always, I appreciate any comments :) 
> 
> Sorry for the long note.


End file.
